Psychopomp
by EveryEye
Summary: "You didn't think that people in kimonos performed soul burials on Egyptian pharaohs, or Vikings, did you?" Two fighters part ways on bad terms. Can two friends meet on the battlefield to mend the broken world? A Winter War story where deities from other pantheons take sides, and two hotheads self-reflect through trials of blood and steel…literally. Tatsuki-centric, Ensemble-piece
1. Make the World Weak

_Disclaimer:_ I do not own any of the characters in the following work. All recognizable anime characters belong to Tite Kubo. All others characters are adapted from a diverse spread of cultural and mythological lore. I am making no profit from this story.

_Author's Note 1:_ This story covers an alternate version of events (from Orihime's kidnapping all the way through the end of the Winter War) in which Aizen uses the ability of event-rejection to it's utmost, death gods of other pantheons play a key role in the winter war (on _both_ sides), and Tatsuki finally develops the abilities we all know she's harboring—and puts them to use. This story is Tatsuki-centric (with a secondary focus on Ichigo), and will in the very long run be ultimately about their relationship with each other. However, it is also an ensemble piece, and will not only will it heavily feature many, many other Bleach characters, it will also include their POVs as well. A plethora of different pairings will be explored between various characters, because in this story, like in life, relationships among groups of people are shifting, unrequited, and/or complicated.

All "original" characters are not _really_ original, as they will be based on religions, folklore, mythology, and cultural myths created hundreds to thousands of years ago. Descriptions, roles, skills, and abilities of deities from other pantheons will closely tie with these beliefs. Please note that (*) indicates a footnote below that explains the mythological origin/significance of the preceding word or statement that I think might not be common knowledge. (†) indicates a note on the story itself. If you think this practice gets annoying or isn't helpful, please let me know.

Spoilers up to current chapters in the manga. Sorry about the long author note. Thanks for reading!

* * *

**Chapter 1: Make the World Weak  
**

_The clever make the world weak_

_To pull it from it's moorings_

_To form the old wicked ruse_

_To weather the coming storm_

-Saturnine

by The Smashing Pumpkins

* * *

Her footsteps echoed loud on the pavement as she raced across the town. Desperate, fearful, the blood that pounded through her heart made her veins tingle with dread.

_She is not here, _she thought, could not escape thinking. _I am not going to find her._

The school, the sweet shop, even the arcade, the girl was _nowhere. _After an entire day of searching, ever since she had felt Orihime's presence disappear completely, she had nothing to show for her efforts.

Refusing to quit, her shadow ran with her, now before, now behind in the glow of the orange streetlights she passed. She could not say how long she had been running until, at last, she collapsed to her knees in an exhausted heap by the river.

_Something happened. She is not here._

Tatsuki almost never cried. She hadn't cried when she got hit by a car and broke her arm. She hadn't cried when the chain of a swing got tangled in her hair and it ripped a chunk of it out. She hadn't cried that time she slipped on the ice and broke her front two teeth. But as she knelt on the bank of the river, digging her fingers into the dirt beneath her, she could feel a prickling sensation in her tear ducts.

_Ichigo knows_. Ichigo was at the center of all weird things. Had been, for many months. Tatsuki may have been pushed to the sidelines, forgotten and alone, but she could recognize a pattern when she saw one.

And she could recognize a ghost, too.

Part of her blamed herself for letting things go on as long as they had. She knew, she _knew_ they had been lying to her. Keeping secrets. Her memories of the first strange incidents were still foggy, but as time went on, recollections and evidence were piling up in a neat stack.

She had told herself that she would wait until they were ready. Many a night she had stared at the blank wall next to her bed and told herself that when they were ready to talk, _when they needed someone to talk to_, they would come to her and lay their burdens down. It got harder to believe with every turn of the moon. Instead of coming to lean on her, they shared their hardships with each other, keeping everything within the circle. Away from her.

_It is good they can depend on each other,_ she admitted. _But if they cannot come to me with their fears, how can I to go to them with mine?_ Until they told her what was happening, she had no one to talk to about the strange awareness she could feel growing stronger within herself every day. Until they came to her with the truth, she was alone.

She shook her head, trying to keep her focus on the matter at hand and not let it run in familiar, depressing circles. _Ichigo knows what this is about_, she thought. _And I won't rest until he's told _me _what it's about too._

She hadn't expected to sleep that night. As she fell into bed fully clothed, not even removing her shoes, she had felt sure that sleep would elude her as surely as Orihime had. It was not only worry for her friend that chewed at her like a rabid dog, but also concern over how to confront her _other_ friend in the morning.

She had convinced herself not to storm into Ichigo's house that night demanding answers. She couldn't be sure that Orihime wasn't just off on another adventure to her _grandmother's house_, as she had been all this past summer (who did they think they were fooling?). If it all turned out to be fine, she couldn't even imagine the kind of shame and embarrassment such an overreaction would shower her with. And if it _wasn't_ okay…well, she hadn't any idea what to do, anyway. She had no choice but to try to get some answers before she could act. _This, too, is a fight. I have to size up the situation before I lunge._

Her stomach flipped as she tried to reason out what to say to Ichigo to persuade him to be honest with her. She had been waiting, _patiently, _for him to come to her of his own accord. After so many near-misses involving her, after her friends at the dojo had all been killed, after all the strange sightings and fights that she couldn't deny any longer, she had waited. She had known him longer than she had ever known another person, save her parents, and she knew that Ichigo had to be allowed to do things in his own time. But while she waited, her heart sank a little every day that passed that he _did not tell her_, did not even look at her in class.

Weren't they nakama?

_Don't doubt it, _she told herself. _You will find the words, tomorrow. You will tell him you _know_, and he will be relieved that you won't think he's crazy when he tells you everything that's been going on._

Yeah. Right. _Ever the optimist, inner-Tatsuki._

She had not expected to sleep that night, with such stresses weighing on her mind. Which was why when she _dreamed_ it was as unexpected as it was disturbing.

A red-blonde woman with metal skin. A dragon with glittering, golden scales. A stone being ground into shining droplets of water. Ichigo, his face transformed into a grotesque rictus of hatred. A woman with feathers for hair. And scariest of all, Orihime, pale and beautiful, with a gaping hole where her heart should be.

She woke up gasping for breath, clutching at something that was not there.

_Ichigo_, she thought desperately. _You've got to tell me everything. You've got to tell me everything, or I'll never be able to sleep again._

* * *

Grimmjow's laughter echoed through the hall, bouncing on the tiles and sliding over the bloodstains that Luppi's lifeless body had smeared everywhere.

Aizen's mouth formed his favorite type of smile, his _secret_ smile; a smirk that displayed his pleasure, but gave no hint as to _why _he was so very, very amused. Everything was perfect. The girl's powers were everything he was hoping they'd be. It was perfect.

"Ulquiorra," he intoned over the din.

"Yes, Aizen-sama?"

"Please take Inoue-san to the quarters that have been prepared for her. Ensure that she's comfortable."

"Yes, Aizen-sama."

As the Fourth Espada led the unresisting girl from the hall, Aizen dismissed the other arrancar from his presence.

"Won't that girl's friends be looking for her?" asked Nnorita, before anyone could leave. The question was casual enough, but the leer on his face oozed lust for a fight. At the Fifth's words, the remaining Espada turned to look at Aizen.

He deigned to answer. "While it seems likely they would make an attempt to reacquire our guest, we have sealed all entrances into Hueco Mundo for the time being. This includes the ones we've let the Shinigami researchers tamper with."

Aizen made certain to control the authority in his voice just right for the sentence that came next—too little, and some, like Grimmjow, would test him; too much and others would bristle and seethe. "This means that the likely _success_ of a rescue attempt is very low. However, it also means that none of you are able to leave Hueco Mundo until further notice. Until instructed otherwise, I ask that you remain in your palaces." While there were a few disgruntled and disappointed mutterings, all the Espada filed out without incident.

Aizen turned to the remaining occupants in the room, the other former Shinigami captains that had participated in his coup and betrayed the Gotei 13.

"Tousen."

"Yes, Aizen-sama?"

"Do you remember the unsolicited message that came from Dis* some months ago?"

"From the ranks of the Fallen? Yes."

"And do you recall what they wanted?"

"Yes. They wanted you to create a fighting force of arrancar for them to use in their struggle against the Favored. In exchange for an army, they offered to commit their swords for a siege on the Seireitei."

"A fair promise," said Aizen. "And do you remember why we refused such an offer?"

"Two reasons. First, if we were to create more arrancar, we would be better served by adding them to our own ranks than giving them away."

Gin smiled, looking for all the world like a fox. "Heh, it's not like we've got warehouses full of extras."

"And the second reason, Tousen?" Aizen prodded.

"Of course. Even though they were willing to swear their allegiance in a battle against Soul Society, their reiatsu patterns are wholly different from ours, and would be repelled in our realm. Fallen angels—as well as loyal angels—of any significantly high power level can't pass into Hueco Mundo _or _Soul Society."

"Lesser demons might be able to pass, but they'd be little more than cannon fodder," Gin smirked. "It was just like that other request from those Ifrits.* They could promise us a billion wishes, but if they can't get their asses here then it's pointless. " He snorted, "Ya'd think they'd know it, too. Shows ya how desperate they are."

"Still, the fact that multiple pantheons have begged our help indicates the amount of respect we have garnered in other spirit realms," Tousen said. "It is an acknowledgement that our power is growing."

"Ya, the rabble scraping at our door is quite the compliment," sneered Gin.

"What if I suggested to you, gentlemen," Aizen interrupted, "that we _could_ bring those with discordant reiatsu to Hueco Mundo?"

"How is that possible? Cross-dimensional travel is extremely difficult. For a captain-class being it is virtually impossible," said Tousen.

"Not to mention the side effects ya experience if ya manage to do it," added Gin.

"And if we were to _reject _the effects?" Aizen continued to smile.

For the space of a breath, both men went very silent.

"Are you saying that girl can usher powerful beings into Hueco Mundo from other realms, with no side effects?" asked Tousen.

"Well, _yes_. However, if she were to see to it personally that all ill-effects were negated, she would have to be performing event rejection continuously on everyone. The far more practical solution would be for us to harness her power to create a device or an artifact that would have the same effect.

"And in fact," again, a smile, "I have already asked Syzael to look into such a device, ever since Ulquiorra brought the girl to our attention. Now that she's here, he'll be able to take the work into its final stages."

"But what about the price?" asked Gin.

_Very sharp_, thought Aizen. "Ah yes, the arrancar army." He tilted his head and rested it on the tips of his fingers, propping his elbow up on the throne. "Frankly, I have no intention of using the Hougyoku to make arrancar armies for outsiders. _But…" _

Aizen looked at Tousen. "On a daily basis, what do you think a Fallen Angel in Dis misses the most?"

Tousen only hesitated for a second, "Paradise."

Aizen smirked in a way that might have meant many things. "Paradise is subjective. And anyway, they cannot see it from where they are, to be taunted with reminders of it every day."

Gin was staring at the stains of blood that had been Luppi's life, until an arm was reattached onto a certain creature that had sorely missed it. "Their wings."

"The scars never fully heal, you know." Aizen's tone was light, conversational. "Where their proud plumage used to bloom lay wounds that bleed and ache and never, never close. I'm sure they would be more grateful for their restoration than any army we can bestow."

"The girl can return them," said Tousen. "Easily."

"We glue a few angel wings back on, increase the power of our fighting force, and all for a fraction of the resources creating an arrancar army would run us," said Gin.

"You gentlemen still aren't seeing the larger implications." Aizen's voice was taking on a quality that he liked to think of as his "visionary tone." While it wasn't really necessary with these two, Aizen understood that a leader must never neglect the power of charisma when bending those around you to comply with your will.

"Those that beseech us all have some things in common with each other. They all are usually nefarious in nature, for a certainty, and they all are looking to seize power—terrible at wielding it though they may be. But, most conspicuously, they are all trying to _reject_ something. Reclaim that which was lost, like the Fallen and their bygone glory. Release themselves from servitude, like the desert Jinns and Ifrits. Reverse the hierarchy of power in their realm**,** like Erlik and his Siberian sons.* They all want to deny some event or condition.

"This girl has the ability to grant such longings. And when we spread the word, it is not just the rabble that will flock to us, but the powerful as well."

"Soul Society will be limited in the support they can receive from other pantheons," said Tousen. "They will not have the girl's powers to bring in the same level of assistance."

"Precisely. Allies of such caliber will go a long way towards furthering our ultimate goals," smiled Aizen.

"Tousen, I would like for you to prepare a message to be sent to those of the spirit realms that are…unhappy with their current lot, informing them of what we can offer, and asking them what _they _are prepared to offer in return."

"Yes, Aizen-sama." Without pause, Tousen swept from the room to complete his task.

Only Gin stayed behind. "That's a fine plan, except I was wondering…" there was something about his smile that was gaping, even when his mouth was closed, "is it really in our best interests to grant all these boons to creatures that are known for being untrustworthy? Seems like we'd be setting ourselves up in a prime position to be stabbed in the back."

_Very sharp indeed, _thought Aizen. "For a certainty, giving them everything they want would be very _bad _for us. If we reach out our hand in offering _too_ far, we are like to get it bitten off for our trouble." The manner in which these words left his mouth said this was the last thing that would happen. "But surely the dog that gets a _taste_ of a reward will be more likely to wear the leash.

"Let it suffice to say that treachery is not unplanned for. And besides, Gin, as far as us concerning ourselves over the trustworthiness of our future comrades," Aizen smiled his favorite smile, "well, you know what it is they say about throwing stones."

* * *

_Author's Note 2:_ Constructive criticism is welcomed and embraced, and feedback totally makes me write faster. Thank you so much for reading this far.

* * *

(*)_ Mythology Notes:_

**Dis: **In Dante's _Inferno_, Dis is the "City of the Dead," and can be thought of almost like the capital city of Hell. Fallen Angels "guard" the city, but they are just as much prisoners as they are jailers. Dis is in the 6th circle of Hell and marks the transition from punishment of passive sins (like sloth) to active sins (like murder). For the purposes of this story, Dis is the home of the majority of Fallen Angels.

**Ifrits/Jinns: **Commonly known as Genies in the western world. From the Arabic tradition, they appear in the Qur'an, and are described as spirits of free-will that are lesser than angels, and stronger, but not smarter than humans. They can be good or evil, and some have a penchant for possessing and/or tricking humans, depending on the type they are. They can be summoned to do services or bound, usually by black magic, to something like a bottle or a lamp—thus the story of Aladdin and the Genie of the Lamp.

**Erlik:** A God of Death in Mongolian/Siberian mythology. Evil and treacherous, he was cast to the Underworld by the creator god Ulgen. Erlik is continuously trying to overthrow Ulgen so that he is seen as equal to him, or even greater. He has 9 sons and daughters to help him spread misfortune to human kind.


	2. Schism

_Disclaimer:_ I do not own any of the characters in the following work. All recognizable anime characters belong to Tite Kubo. All others characters are adapted from a diverse spread of cultural and mythological lore. I am making no profit from this story.

_Author's Note 1:_ A quick heads-up: In this chapter, as in the last, most of the non-Shinigami gods discussed are from Judeo-Christian dogma—fallen angels in particular. I want to assure those of you looking for some mythological variety that this is only because they take the least amount of up-front explanation. Seems to me that most readers will be at least passing-familiar with the concept of angels, and these first chapters are already so full of exposition and set-up that I didn't want to overwhelm everyone right away with more back-story. So, long note short, I'm easing you in—variety is coming!

And now, we join a meeting already in progress…

* * *

**Chapter 2: Schism**

_The light that fueled our fire then_

_Has burned a hole between us so_

_We cannot see to reach an end  
_

-Schism

by Tool

* * *

**_Nights Since Orihime's Disappearance: 1 / Soul Society_**

The tension in the air was thick, stagnant. This room had held any number of meetings in which the potential destruction of Soul Society had been discussed, and plans to save it forged. But in the hundreds of years that Shunsui had been a part of such meetings, none had ever seemed quite as somber, or as dire, as this one.

"Perhaps his call will fall on deaf ears," he sighed, knowing it was a futile hope. The information Ukitake had presented was quite clear, but the lay-about in him kept faith alive that perhaps the storm would blow over yet. "All the pantheons know the dangers. Perhaps none will risk the consequences."

"No such luck." Ukitake was often very sick, but never had his face looked as grim as it did when he spoke his next words. "The message intercepted is not Aizen's invitation. It's a response; Sonneillon, a former Throne.* If deities as highly ranked as the Third Choir are seriously considering Aizen's offer, we may infer three things."

Ukitake's sigh carried the wariness they all felt before he continued on. "One, Sonneillon probably consulted the Morning Star* before agreeing to Aizen's terms. A lieutenant would not commit his legions without his general's consent. To them, this is probably a test run. If this alliance is even remotely successful, and if we do not _completely_ remove Aizen's method for breaching the natural divisions of the spirit realms, it is almost certain the threat will grow exponentially in the future."

"Two," Shunsui reluctantly began, "the offer Aizen made _is _serious. It is unlikely even he would dangle promises in front of the likes of Lucifer and Apep* without being able to at least partially prove his word." He shook his head. "The disappearance of Inoue Orihime is very…timely. It is likely her abilities are directly related to how Aizen plans to accomplish his goals."

"Three," said Unohana quietly, "more than Sonneillon have probably already acquiesced to the offer." Most would mistake her expression for calm, even call it serene. But Shunsui knew her as few did—as only those in this room possibly could—and he could tell by the barely perceptible narrowing of her eyes that she was calculating strategies, figuring odds. Quietly, she was preparing for war. "It will be difficult to determine the number, rankings, and affiliations of all that heed his call, but we will certainly be at a disadvantage if we cannot respond in kind."

When the final occupant of the room broke his silence, his voice carried the gravity of centuries. "We must invoke the Oath," said Yamamoto.

Shunsui raised his fingers to the bridge of his nose, as if that gesture alone could erase the pain of the migraines his future self would experience before this business was over. They had all known from the minute the message had been recovered that it would come to this. Indeed, it was the reason that this group of four—the most senior members of the Gotei 13—had held this preliminary meeting in private. It was only they that new of the Oath's existence, and of its importance to all spiritual worlds.

It was Shunsui that gave voice to the concern he knew was on everyone's mind. "It is not certain they will come. The Oath is an understanding, not a binding contract."

The Oath was an agreement, a pact, between the heads of all pantheons. It stated that no interference between pantheons would be tolerated, regardless of any noble intentions trespassers might have for doing so. The need for such an understanding was plain; most deific hierarchies maintained a shifting balance between two polar opposites: good and evil, light and dark, order and chaos. Though competition was always fierce between these factions, it was _necessary. _The belief structure of the associated religions themselves usually hinged upon the struggle. It was _temptation_ that made virtue clear. It was _fear_ that made bravery a challenge. The dark without the light was terrifying. The light without the dark was flat.

Thus, no outside "assistance" was permitted to either faction of any pantheon, least the balance be tipped to one side and the entire system topple—and no god, anywhere, knew what would happen if it did. Even in the countless apocalyptic dogmas—Armageddon, Ragnarok, the incarnation of Kalki*—the dark aspects were never really obliterated, but simply kept from rising up to overthrow the light.

However, this pact between the gods further stipulated that if incursions between realms _did_ occur, all spirit realms had a responsibility to assist in putting the transgressors down. The promise of such a show of force was a strong deterrent, but whether the promise would be kept remained to be seen. It was always possible that other pantheons would stay entrenched in their realms, prepared in case the opposing faction took that opportunity to strike.

The Oath had not been tested. There had never been a need. Most spirit realms simply had no interest in the others, and until now the means for any significant number of powerful deities to cross realms remained out of reach.

"Some will heed," said Unohana. "They have to. The honorable will realize that there is more at stake than Soul Society, and _everyone_ has an interest in keeping the human world safe." If the human world crumbled, if Aizen made hollows out of the lot of them, there would be no one left to worship any gods, after all.

"The better question isn't _if,_ it's _how," _said Shunsui._ "_Cross-dimensional travel isn't just forbidden, it's bloody difficult. If they're unable to help us, it makes very little matter if they'd be willing."

"It is not completely impossible," said Unohana. "Demi-gods that were previously mortal suffer fewer side effects in other realms. It is the result of their lingering connection to human world, where all reiatsu patterns are permitted and intertwined."

"Yes, but that connection fades the longer the spirit exists as a demi-god, and the more powerful they become," said Ukitake, shaking his head. "Though, travel to Soul Society might be easier than most, since we _all _were once mortal."

"Psychopomps," said Shunsui. "Other death gods. They're our best gamble. Consider the fact that movement between spirit realms and the human world is generally done by death gods. Cross-dimensional travel is our _function_, albeit generally only to Earth. And out of this purpose, death gods generally have the highest tolerance for foreign reiatsu."

"It will still prove extremely difficult for the powerful ones," said Unohana. "Remember that, whatever method Aizen has concocted to transport his allies, we do not possess it, or anything like it."

"No," said Ukitake. "_We_ don't. But perhaps Urahara—"

"Ukitake," intoned Yamamoto, interrupting his suggestion.

"Yes, Genryuusai-sensei?"

"Draft a message informing the other pantheons of the situation. Specify that the conditions of the Oath have been met. Do not beg their help, do not demand their assistance, but make it clear that they will be expected to fulfill their obligation."

"Yes, sensei."

"Unohana. Arrange a Captain's meeting for first light tomorrow morning. By then we should have our responses and will start assigning squads to retrieve our allies."

"Yes, Yamamoto-sama."

"Go, now. Both of you." As they filed out, Yamamoto fixed his gaze upon the one remaining person in the room.

"Shunsui."

"Yes, Jii-san?"

"Though he is an exile, our need is dire. I would like you to speak with our prodigal son about how he intends to be of service in this conflict."

Shunsui rose to obey, straightening his hat. "Yes, Jii-san."

* * *

**_Nights Since Orihime's Disappearance: 1 / Karakura_**

"JUST WHAT AM I TO YOU, ANYWAY?!" she roared. She could not believe it. This was not happening. There was no way he could simply brush her off like this, like lint off a sleeve.

"Aren't I your friend?! Aren't we nakama?!" Her chest felt compressed and her neck muscles corded with tension at the force of her screams. The bright, burning anger was the only barrier she had between herself and the doubt that had thrust its way into her heart at his baffling reaction. Had she only imagined that they were close? Could it be she was the only one who thought they had once been best friends?

No. Impossible. Memories of a thousand battles fought side-by-side rose up. "Countless times I've seen you in trouble, and countless times I've helped you out!" She did remember it. She _did._ But then why…why didn't he? Didn't it mean anything? Didn't he care about her at all?

Orihime was gone, but it was not until this moment that she felt _truly_ alone.

Fierce anger was spiraling into confused hurt. It simply didn't make sense. _Someone you care about, you don't…_ "You don't…you don't hide things…from someone like that," she finished aloud. _You don't._

She lapsed into silence, her vitriol anger simmering in Keigo's arms. Her eyes dropped resolutely to her shoes, refusing to look at Ichigo's face. He had taken much from her in these last few minutes; if he were to see the tears forming, glimpse the vulnerable cracks she could feel, the loss of that final façade just might make her go berserk.

Nevertheless, she could feel his eyes on her for a few brief moments before he rose up.

"Sorry," she could hear him saying. "Keigo, Mizuiro, take care of Tatsuki." At any other time, these words and their implications would have sent her through the roof. But with everything that had preceded them, they were like pin pricks next to knife wounds; they didn't stir her. "And from now on, don't associate with me." Without sparing a glance over his shoulder, he silently walked away.

In a few hours, when Tatsuki was brooding, she would think that the most infuriating part of this encounter was that he didn't even have the decency to quicken his pace as he left—like an acknowledgement that he was in the wrong and should be leaving the scene of the crime. Instead, he kept his gait unhurried, uncaring of the gathering spectators. As if it was socially acceptable to publicly betray a friendship.

At that moment, however, Tatsuki just thought it gave her more time to get in some choice words, desperate as they were.

"Don't you walk away from me!" she yelled, straining in Keigo's grasp. "Don't you dare! Do you hear me?!" Her voice rose in pitch as he neared the door but did not turn.

"THEN RUN!" she roared. "Run, and see if I don't chase you down, you bastard! See if I don't—"

"He's gone, Tatsuki," Keigo voice sounded almost as miserable as she felt.

She twisted out of Keigo's grasp. "He's an ungrateful dumbass, and I'll shove those words down his dumbass throat!" She _would._ She was not weak, and she refused to be powerless. She would find a way to ram his idiocy right back in his face.

"I _know_ Arisawa, but…" Keigo made a second grab for her, but she knocked his hands away with a snap of her wrist. "Arisawa, we have to leave the hallway _now._ The teachers are going to be here any second!"

Realizing he had a good point, but not in the mood to indulge him with an acknowledgement, she forcefully stomped down the hall to the stairwell leading up to the roof. Somewhere behind her, she could hear Keigo following at a distance and Mizuiro trying to calmly explain an edited version of events to the assistant principle; within seconds, the sound of the howling wind at the top of the staircase drowned all other thoughts and noises away.

* * *

He walked out of the school with a steady gait and a carefully blank mind. He thought only of the next step forward, both in terms of his feet and his plan to leave for Hueco Mundo.

It had been like this ever since he first realized Inoue had been kidnapped, and a seeping chill had washed through his bones. If he let his mind linger on any of the thoughts that were trying to force their way in—_what are they doing to her is she even still alive why didn't I see this coming_—then he simply wouldn't be able to function, and _that_ would only make rescuing her impossible. The gentlest girl in the entire world was at the mercy of monsters. If he didn't shut out everything but what was on the path straight ahead of him, he knew he would drown in his guilt.

Thinking of her gentleness made his mind leap to a girl that was not so gentle, the evidence of which was written in the blood dotting his sweater. He attempted to steer his thoughts away from the open wound called Tatsuki; he failed.

_Of all the stupid, ridiculous... _If he gave himself time to reflect on it, he would have had to beat his head against a brick wall for not seeing that Tatsuki was spiritually aware. _She could see the Shinigami badge, for fuck's sake. She _told_ me that she could see it. And I just assumed it was broken? Why the hell didn't I… _He broke that line of thought there, knowing where it led. He hadn't seen because he hadn't looked. With the non-stop roller coaster that his life had become, he had barely spent any time at all with his "normal" friends. With so many others urgently clamoring for his attention, they had been relegated to background by default. His mind strained, realizing he couldn't recall a single thing about what was going on in their lives this past month. The thought of it now shamed him.

But not as much as his actions today did.

Over eleven years of friendship, he and Tatsuki had had more than their share of knockdown, drag-out fights, complete with emotional and physical damage. But this was not like when they got mad at each other and he called her a flat-chested tomboy. This was not the time she told all the guys at school that he wet the bed for a brief period when he was 7, and it was _nothing_ like the time she found a porno magazine under his bed and busted his lip for being a pervert. It wasn't something bandages and an apology ice cream sundae could fix.

He had seen the look on her face just after he had denied her plea, no matter how quickly she slammed down a mask of rage and thrown a punch. He couldn't _un_seeit. He may as well have stabbed her in the heart, and wiggled his fingers in the wound.

Truth was, he didn't tell her to butt out so that he could keep her ignorant of the spirit world; from the minute she had confessed she was aware, it couldn't have been clearer that she had a part in this world, whether he liked it or not. It was not even that he was trying to push her away so that she didn't worry about him and Orihime. He wasn't mentally challenged; the feelings he had seen on her face were exponentially more painful than worry could ever be.

No. He had done this on purpose. Because after eleven years of friendship, Kurosaki Ichigo _knew_ Arisawa Tatsuki. Tell her that she couldn't, shouldn't, or that you wouldn't _let_ her do something and it was as good as done. Tell her you're on a rescue mission and she'd claw your eyes out before she'd be left behind. Tell her you're trying to save her, she'd tell you to worry about saving yourself; she's fine, thanks.

No, the only sure way to keep her out of a conflict was to find a way to make her _decide_ she didn't want any part in it. Try to shove her out and she shoves back. You had to give her a reason to _want_ to leave.

Hating his guts just might be a good enough reason. If he'd hurt her as badly as he thought—if his actions had been insulting enough to earn her disgust with him and his friendship—then she might back away from the issue long enough for him to slip away without getting everyone else tangled in the mire. She was stubborn, so she'd probably come back around for round two eventually. But by then he would already be gone and have left her with no way to follow.

He couldn't fool himself, though. It wasn't for her own good. It was for his. Because Kurosaki Ichigo knew Arisawa Tatsuki, and the truth of the matter was she'd _rather_ join the battle and die a bloody, brutal death—and if she joined them with no powers to speak of, she would die, he was certain—than sit and wait helplessly for them to _maybe _come home. In Hueco Mundo, she would die badly, but satisfied. In Karakura, she would boil and seethe with hatred, burning up the last of their friendship, but she would be _safe._ Tatsuki, Keigo, and Mizuiro would probably all curse him for a bastard, but they'd be safe. Perhaps it was selfishness on his part, to want them alive at the cost of their feelings, their friendships. But he honestly couldn't see another way to save them.

Of course, he hadn't an inkling of a clue of what to do about Tatsuki and the others when he returned. But living with their eternal disdain was better than living with their corpses. He would suffer it, if he had to. Though he sincerely prayed that wouldn't be the case.

_She will forgive me,_ he tried to keep repeating. _When I bring Orihime back to her, she'll understand what I had to do. She has to_. But even in his own mind, the words sounded more desperate than certain.

As he turned the corner, drawing ever farther from the school that housed his friends, he was at last able to shut down the section of his mind that agonized. What was done was done. Rehashing it would not get him to Hueco Mundo any faster. The only thing that could get him to Hueco Mundo was Urahara.

Which was why he was headed for the shopkeeper's store.

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_Author's Note 2:_ Special thanks go to shurikan0_, _Veggiemite, Sironblood1, and CWolf2 for their reviews. I am honored by your kind words. Any criticism, critique, praise, or censure is encouraged and readily accepted with open arms. If I wrote something that made absolutely no sense, or was wicked cool, by all means drop me a line. Thanks!

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_Mythology Notes: _

**Thrones:** Angels are broken up into a hierarchy that consists of nine choirs. Those are, in order from the highest on down: Seraphim (seraphs), Cherubim (cherubs), Thrones, Dominions, Virtues, Powers, Principalities, Archangels, Angels. Personally, it has always seemed strange to me that cherubs are much more highly ranked than Archangels. In any case, angels from all nine choirs participated in the Fall, so they retain that rank as Fallen.

**Morning Star:** Another name sometimes used for Lucifer. Lucifer essentially means "bearer of light/light bringer," and the 'Morning Star' (which is actually a planet, Venus) can be seen about 3 hours before sunrise, essentially heralding the sun.

**Apep:** The personification of evil itself in Egyptian mythology—in other words, the head god of their "dark" deities. He is often portrayed as a type of reptile, such as a crocodile or a serpent. Later in the mythology, Set assumes more the role of the head "baddie," but they never quite fully merge into one entity.

**Armageddon:** The prophesized final battle between God and Satan, in which the devil will work through the Antichrist. There's a lot of different takes on this, so I'm only going to include this most general explanation here.

**Ragnarok:** The Norse take on the end of the world, in which the forces of Chaos (Loki, his children, the Giants, etc.) will battle against what are essentially the forces of Order (the gods of Asgard, like Odin). More to come on this in future chapters.

**Kalki Avatar:** In Hindu mythology, the tenth and final Avatar of Vishnu, the head deity of the Hindu pantheon. This incarnation will come to end the current age of misery, Kali Yuga.


	3. The Low Road

_Disclaimer:_ I do not own any of the characters in the following work. All recognizable anime characters belong to Tite Kubo. All others characters are adapted from a diverse spread of cultural and mythological lore. I am making no profit from this story.

_Author's Note 1:_ Select portions of the dialogue are drawn from manga chapters 239 and 240 (and I believe I flop between the OneManga and Maximum7 translations-not that those exist anymore anyway).

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**Chapter 3: The Low Road**

_Oh, you'll take the high road_

_And I'll take the low road_

_And I'll be in Scotland before you_

-Loch Lomond

Folk Song; Original Author Unknown

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_**Nights Since Orihime's Disappearance: 1 / Karakura**_

He left his body in Kon's care, with clear instructions to avoid Tatsuki, Keigo, and Mizuiro at all costs. If anyone—_especially_ Tatsuki—came around to resolve the earlier fight, Kon's presence in his body would only compound the disaster. Either Kon would spill his guts about everything, or the mod soul would pretend to be him. Tatsuki, no doubt already suspicious, would surely see through the ruse; whether Kon-pretending-to-be-Ichigo attempted to argue with her further or apologize, all scenarios ended in Tatsuki pounding his deserted body into liquid.

And anyway, he wasn't about to let Kon explain or apologize to any of his friends as his proxy. It was his responsibility, and he would do it himself. _Never mind that I have no idea what I'd say. _He'd ford that river when he reached it.

Upon rubbing the back of his borrowed head, Kon had found scalp lacerations still oozing blood and did not argue. Ichigo left him to take care of the wounds; if he had asked his father to stitch them before he departed, there would be questions that he did not want to answer. Then he'd _never_ be able to leave.

When he was in sight of the shop, he was unsurprised to see Urahara leaning against the exterior, a lit pipe dangling from his fingers. Almost like he had been waiting for him.

"Welcome," said the man in clogs and a hat. "I was thinking it was about time you showed up, Kurosaki-san." Suspicion confirmed.

Ichigo decided he would take the bait. "Why did you think that?"

"You thought that I might know 'The Way to Hueco Mundo,' right?" Again, no surprise here. There had been many times that Urahara seemed to know what a person was thinking _before_ they thought it.

When Ichigo didn't respond, Urahara drew from the pipe he was holding and released the smoke in a long, lazy exhale. Leaning further against the building, he continued, "I had feared that Aizen might be gunning for Inoue's abilities, so I took her out of the battle." An expression ghosted his scraggly face that may or may not have been regret. "I was too late. Taking her feelings into consideration and not removing her sooner was my mistake.

"It is for this reason that I intend to assist you any way I can." The look on the man's face was difficult to decipher. Nevertheless, Ichigo knew instinctively that the words were genuine.

"Then…you _are_ able to open a portal into Hueco Mundo for me to pass through?"

"No."

The simplicity of the denial actually prevented Ichigo from responding for a good ten seconds. And then, "WHAT?!"

Urahara only chuckled and waved his fan in front of his face. "I used to be able to open the portal the arrancar pass through—Garganta. However, since Inoue's disappearance, that opening has been reinforced from the inside." The head within the stripped hat tilted slightly to the side. "Someone doesn't want you following, Kurosaki-san."

Ichigo clenched his hand tightly, until his fingernails were drawing blood on the inside of his palm. It was not enough to keep him from an outburst. "Then why the hell did you say you'd help me?! What the hell was that all about?!" The unnatural calm he had been maintaining was cracking, and the fear and anger beneath its surface was leaking through. _I did not come all this way to hear that there's nothing I can do. That Inoue's stuck there forever. That I alienated my friends for nothing. Like hell I'd accept all that._

"Calm yourself, Kurosaki." With much effort, Ichigo did—though the insufferable, knowing smirk on the other man's face did not make it easy. "I said _I_ could not open a portal. However, lucky for you, I happen to know that there is another entrance. Harder to reach, but just as reliable once you have managed to find it."

"Tell me," he said immediately, the command in his voice nearly outweighing the request.

The fan came back out and hid Urahara's face. "Ho, ho. 'Tell me,' he says. Very well. But first, are you aware that Soul Society sent out a call to other death gods, beseeching their help with the Winter War?"

Though annoyed that Urahara had changed the subject, Ichigo's mind couldn't get past the part about "other death gods." "What other death gods? Are there…are there more squads aside from the Gotei 13?"

"That is not what I'm referring to, Kurosaki. Much more _other_ than that." His head tilted, "You didn't think that people in kimonos performed soul burials on the Egyptian pharaohs, or the Vikings, did you?" The man's expression read, _You are so naïve. _Truth was, it had never really occurred to him. But now that it had been brought to his attention, he couldn't deny the absurdity of such an assumption. Talk about an anachronism. _But, if it's not Shinigami…_

"It's not necessary to go into too many details now," the shop keeper continued, "but know this: when it comes to _Death_, the realms and the gods are just as diverse as the cultures of the people living on this earth. For the most part, these worlds are separated—divided by forces that are difficult to overcome. But Aizen has found a way…he has found a _person_…that can help him around these obstacles."

"Inoue," growled Ichigo. "I see." But he didn't, not really. How could Inoue's powers possibly work to transport beings across dimensions? "But how…"

"Do not concern yourself with the specifics," said Urahara. _Pft. He probably just doesn't want to take the time to explain it_, thought Ichigo. _It doesn't matter, as long as this conversation ends in a portal to Hueco Mundo. _"The important bit is this. By-and-large, Soul Society does not have the same capability. At least, not in terms of capacity. We cannot ascertain a limit to Inoue's ability, so we can only assume it is limitless. If that is the case, the size of Aizen's forces will only be restricted by the willingness of others to join his cause.

"While we are far more constrained, we _have_ managed to secure the means for a small number of powerful allies."

While Ichigo found all this moderately interesting, he failed to see how any of it provided him with a passage to Hueco Mundo. _Doesn't Urahara understand that I'm on a time limit here?_ He could feel his impatience growing like a creeping vine, wrapping up spine.

"You may be asking what any of this has to do with you getting to Hueco Mundo."

Ichigo blinked.

A shake of the man's head. "So _impatient._ Listen, Kurosaki, if they planned on killing Inoue, she's already dead. But that scenario is extremely unlikely. Aizen _needs_ Inoue. If they are to utilize her power, they need her to be alive, and relatively whole. Thus, you have some time to rescue her. And you had better keep that in mind, because the only open road to Hueco Mundo is a rather long one."

_Patience? Is he _kidding_? _"Even if they need her alive, it doesn't mean that they won't…they could be torturing her, for all we know! Don't you realize that every minute she's there—"

"Yes," said Urahara, and for the first time during this conversation, Ichigo could hear dead-seriousness in his voice. "I do. But I also realize, as you do not yet understand, that this is the _only choice. _And either you will jump through every required hoop in its own time, or you can wait for the Winter War, and take the chance that all the invading Shinigami are targeting Inoue as a Soul Society traitor and not as a Hueco Mundo captive."

The stare that passed between them was flinty and sharp, but Ichigo could not deny the sense of these words, infuriating though they were.

"Fine," Ichigo relented, still not quite understanding why it tasted faintly like defeat. "_Fine_, damn it. What do I have to do?"

He couldn't be sure, but he thought Urahara was smirking. "Down at the river banks, under the bridge that Kurosawa Street passes over, the fabric between this world and another is worn a little thin. Tomorrow, when the moon is at its apex in the sky, an ally from that spirit world is going to open the rift from the inside. She is much too old and powerful now to cross even into the human world—and _I_ am too powerful to cross into hers. That is where _you_ come in, Kurosaki.

"You, still being human, should be able to cross dimensions without difficulty—as long as you do not release your zanpakuto. Once there, you will give her an artifact of my design that will allow her to come into the human world, and Soul Society, without difficulty."

Something didn't sound right. "I thought you said Soul Society does not have the same capabilities as Aizen in crossing spirit realms."

"We don't. Whereas Inoue can reject the repulsion effect created between two foreign reiatsu patterns when they meet, the device I have invented _converts_ it. It's quite a handy little creation, if I do say so myself. However, since the reiatsu anomaly doesn't actually disappear, use of more than one of these artifacts at a time would result in an uncontrollable ripping of the fabric of the universe."

Ichigo pinched the bridge of his nose. It seemed like the world continued to just get more ridiculously _doomed_ every hour of his life. "Did you just tell me you created something that could _destroy the universe_?"

"Why Kurosaki, how like you to focus on _that_ part of the story," said Urahara, not answering the question.

"Whatever. I don't care," said Ichigo, throwing up his hands. "I _can't_ care, because I'm still waiting for the part where I get to Hueco Mundo."

Urahara drew on his pipe and continued, the smoke drifting out of his mouth. "Once she has received the artifact and crossed through into the human world, her colleagues will guide you to another gate."

"I can get to Hueco Mundo through their world?"

"No."

Almost unconsciously, Ichigo reached for the hilt of the sword across his back.

Urahara brought out his best goofy smile. "Now, remember the conversation we had about patience, Kurosaki. It will serve you well in the future—on this trip especially. You see, many of the Underworlds, as they like to call themselves, are connected to others—but not to _every_ other. Some are connected to only one. It's simply a matter of trudging through a few until you come to the one that is connected to Hueco Mundo. And at least one _is_ connected to Hueco Mundo, rest assured. Not even Aizen would be able to seal it completely."

"Why are there doors between the…Underworlds…if the powerful gods can't pass through them?" For so many supposed restrictions on transdimensional travel, there seemed to be a lot of loopholes.

"I think I'll let them explain, Kurosaki. After all, it would be a shame not to take advantage of the opportunity to learn all that you can about your hosts."

The other man's smile was a little too knowing, and it made Ichigo suspicious. "And why's that?"

"_Why?_ Because knowledge is power, Kurosaki." Before Ichigo could do more than raise an eyebrow at that statement, Urahara plowed forward. "I have already arranged a few connections along the way to help guide you. All you have to do is show up at the Kurosawa Bridge tomorrow night. I'll give you further instructions then. Are we in agreement?"

_What choice do I have?_ It's not like the situation had ever really been in his control, anyway. "Agreed. Tomorrow, at the rise of the moon."

At Urahara's nod, Ichigo darted away into the night, uncertain where he would go for the next 24 hours, since he could not go home. It was just as well. Something about the sound of tomorrow's journey made him suspect he should get used to living like a rolling stone.

_One gear set in motion,_ thought Urahara, _and here comes the next set of cogs._

Urahara waited the few seconds it took for Ichigo to disappear from his sight, then longer still for his reiatsu to fade. When its last flicker had receded, he called the other occupants of the alley out from their hiding space.

"He's gone. Mind coming out now?"

One, two, three, they toppled from behind the garbage cans lining the retaining wall opposite his shop. _If they were snakes, they would have bitten you, Kurosaki. You're still terrible at sensing reiatsu. _ He would have to make sure the boy worked on it in the future. Though it was understandable that his own massive reiatsu blinded him, it was a vulnerability that would sooner or later leave him open to an attack.

"When did you catch on?" asked the tallest. He was dusting off the knees of his pants, and avoiding the shopkeeper's eyes. The stance matched the nervous tone of his voice.

"Long before you decided that the garbage cans would be a good hiding place. Why do you think I kept Kurosaki out here instead of inviting him in?" He exhaled a plume of smoke, and watched as they sorted themselves out.

The shorter boy was stepping out from behind the cans, but the girl stayed where she was, the glare in her eyes hard an unyielding. _Yes, _her eyes said, _why? _Arisawa Tatsuki. He had known such a moment would come. Indeed, for all three of them, this moment was _too long_ in coming. Although they had not yet manifested powers, he could feel the strong, underdeveloped current of reiatsu in each of them. It had been clear for many months now—especially in the girl, and he was beginning to suspect something even more interesting was at work there. Frankly, while Kurosaki might be "blinded by the light," he was surprised that the other humans, or even Rukia, had not seemed to notice.

He had been patiently waiting for something in the group dynamic to give—an explosion of power from one of them, or one of the "empowered" to finally notice and confess the situation. And when that finally happened, where else would they bring them but to his shop? But he could not force their hand. They had already made it clear they did not want anyone put in danger that didn't "need" to be, with their constant insistences that the memories of their friends be erased. If he was going to get any kind of cooperation, he knew they would have to realize for themselves the inevitability of this moment.

And yet, in spite of everything, they still hadn't. A confrontation like the one he had heard about today was also something that he expected, though admittedly he had not foreseen the confronter being flat-out denied. With the kidnapping straining everyone's nerves, he wasn't surprised.

It made no matter. Fate had put them in his hands, regardless.

He took another puff of his pipe, and tried to make his voice light, disarming. "Well, well. As usual, Kurosaki-kun is too naïve. He thinks that just by acting a bit cold, he can suddenly cut off his relationship to you all." He made it sound like a reassurance, but he was counting on them to have already figured out Kurosaki's intentions.

"Arisawa Tatsuki. Asano Keigo. Kojima Mizuiro. Welcome to my humble shop." The fan came out and hid is face. "What can I do for you?"

The boys startled ever so slightly at the use of their names, but the girl was not even fazed. In fact, to Urahara's amusement, she took the initiative to tell him so.

"Don't think I'm surprised that you know my name," she said. Harshly. Too loud. Anger, right from the start. _This will be interesting._ "I know we've met before."

_As I suspected. _"Oh?" said Urahara, the fan still aflutter. "I believe I would remember such a pretty girl."

The comment, meant to unsettle her, did not have any effect. "I know you've been erasing my memories. _Our_ memories," she accused. Urahara thought he could hear her teeth grinding. "Do you deny it?" Her fists clenched at her side in subtle threat.

_Yes, it's exactly as I thought. Her reiatsu is too powerful for the erasures. Her memories have resurfaced. _

He thought he might as well tip his hand. "I wouldn't say we've _met_ before, Arisawa-san. You _were_ unconscious both times." Though the boys made surprised faces, the girl held her face in a stone mask of anger. But she couldn't hold back the look in her eyes. The one that said, with equal parts triumph and rage, _I knew it._

The boys fidgeted, looking with uncertainty between the pair of them. There was a silence in which he could tell she struggling with the instinct to lash out. He could _feel_ it in the reiatsu that danced in the air around her, low-level, but with a hint of something _else_ that he would have to ponder. He was impressed that in the end, she prevailed over herself. Kurosaki would not have.

"You asked what you could do for us?" she said, her voice under strained control. "Well, you could tell us everything. Everything that's being hidden from us. Everything that has almost cost us our lives _multiple_ times."

Urahara respected the gravity of her stare by giving her a serious expression in return. "The people you hold in your heart have gone out of their way to keep you innocent of the dangers the spirit world holds. Would you really throw their efforts back in their faces, just to satisfy your curiosity?" The words were harsh, but he had to be certain. If they only wanted reassurances from him, if they were only after the truth for truth's sake, they had come to the wrong place. He would only offer what they wanted if they intended to _use_ it.

He found his answer as her face first drained pale and then flooded a bright red. "CURIOSITY?!" she might have lunged at him if the taller boy hadn't stepped forward to hold her back. Even as it was, the smaller one had to grab her other arm. "CURIOSITY?! My best friend is kidnapped by a sadistic, supernatural bastard who wants to use her for evil, and you call my fear for her _curiosity_?! A boy I've known my _whole life_ acts like I'm crazy when I confront him about it, and _then _tells me to get lost when I catch him in the lie, and you call my anger _curiosity_?! I almost _die_ on my knees outside my dojo, and you call the burning sensation I feel in the pit of my stomach when those _things_ are in this world _curiosity?!_

"Well I call _you_ a scum-sucking bastard! And I'll have my answers from you if I have to strain your clotted blood through my teeth to get them!" Even in the boys' grasp, she lifted a fist to shake it at him. Not for the first time tonight, he saw clear parallels between her and Kurosaki, with her near uncontrollable outbursts and stubborn spirit. _Why must I be cursed with two of them?_

He held his hands up in front of him. "I surrender, Arisawa-san, I surrender." Not that she was in any way calmed by these words. He turned to the boys. "And you?"

Asano rubbed the back of his head. "Those weird guys that stayed at my house…these things we've been seeing. They're not…they're not just going to go away, you know?" The boy looked up into Urahara's eyes for the first time that evening. "We're not gonna stop being in danger just 'cause we're oblivious to it. We're just gonna keep stumbling into it, making ourselves _more _of a nuisance if we don't know what's going on."

Kojima nodded his head. "We may never be able to fight," it did not escape Urahara's notice that Arisawa _huffed_ in the background at these words, "but at least we could help by keeping other normal people out of the way. And ourselves too."

Urahara wondered how it hadn't dawned on these kids that they were clearly _not_ normal. Maybe the girl tasted it, but the boys still did not understand what their newfound awareness meant. _I supposed I can't expect them to draw conclusions from the nothing they've been told. _Still, couldn't they feel they were _different_, even without knowing precisely what was going on?

He mentally sighed. This would be a difficult conversation. He would have to tailor it in a way that would convince them to maneuver _themselves_ into the proper places for what was to come—without knowing it. _Difficult, but a far cry from impossible. Don't kid yourself, Kisuke, you thrive on a challenge._

"Very well," he said aloud. He folded up his fan and pointed it at the entrance to his shop. "Step into my office."

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_Author's Note 2:_ Thanks go to Sironblood1, megrim, CWolf2, Veggiemite, and red lilies for their reviews, and a gi-normous thank you to InfiniteDragon for an ultra thoughtful critique and some helpful suggestions. As always, I will readily accept (and be grateful for) all commentary and critique (or even just prods to keep working, those are great too). Thanks for reading!


	4. Gazing at the Stars

_Disclaimer:_ I do not own any of the characters in the following work. All recognizable anime characters belong to Tite Kubo. All others characters are adapted from a diverse spread of cultural and mythological lore. I am making no profit from this story.

_Author's Note 1:_ In this chapter, we touch base with all three realms. I wrote POVs for quite a few characters I haven't written for previously, so if your OOC meters go off, please let me know.

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**Chapter 4: Gazing at the Stars**

_I spend my time gazing at the stars_

_As silently it snows inside my heart_

_Someone said that life brings_

_And then takes_

-The Winter Wake

by Elvenking

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_**Nights Since Orihime's Disappearance: 0 / Hueco Mundo**_

It was always night in Las Noches.

When Orihime was very little, the dark had terrified her. Her parents, never concerned enough with her wellbeing to bother with her childish fears, had simply ignored her broken sobs and left her to cower under her covers. Hiding beneath the frayed comforter, she would try to fill her mind with thoughts of flowers and robots and adventures.

She usually failed.

"_When you are not fulfilling Aizen-sama's orders, you will remain in this room. Meals and other essentials will be provided for you here."_

And then Sora had come, her strong knight upon a white horse, and as with so many other aspects of her life, he had taken the broken fragments of her fears and pieced them into a beautiful mosaic that sparkled in the light of his love for her.

Late one evening, he had led her out under the night sky. With her arms clamped tightly around his neck, he coaxed her to look up into the inky black above her. She could still clearly remember the star-strewn sky, like a million-billion glittering diamonds thrown up into a canopy of black velvet. For hours and hours Sora sat in the grass with her, pointing out the constellations, helping her trace new ones (she saw a lot of robots in their twinkling patterns), and spinning tales of the men and the gods that had found their way into the heavens.

"_You will never to leave this room unless you are being escorted by myself or another arrancar of Aizen's choosing. You will under no circumstances venture into the hallways. Escape is quite impossible, and if you should foolishly decide to disregard Aizen-sama's orders and make an attempt, you will be senselessly placing yourself in grave danger."_

Just before the morning began to creep into the sky, her brother had wrapped his arms around her and said, "Only in the darkness of night can we see the stars, Sweetheart. Don't ever forget that the dark brings more beauty than beasts."

After that day, the darkness had ceased to be a frightening enemy and become a secret friend instead. Smooth and sleek, it coiled around her ankles like a black cat when she played capture-the-flag. It draped across her shoulders like a woolen mantel when she walked home in the early evenings of winter. She apologized for hurting its feelings with her tears, and it accepted with a friendly slide of shadow across her skin.

As long as she lived, she had never forgotten Sora's words, or the strength they gave her.

"_Suitable clothing has been left on the couch behind you. You will change your attire and place the garments you are currently wearing at the door to be destroyed."_

But now, _here,_ she struggled to recall that strength. Everything about this place was a perversion of something beautiful, and the darkness that crept around the corners—even in the brightest artificial light—was no exception. No matter how stark and colorless the room they had left her in was, no matter how clean and pure the white of their robes, every last thing about Hueco Mundo felt like thick dark tar; menacing in its nature, no matter how inanimate it was reported to be. For the first time in what seemed like eternity, the dark was strange and foreign to her.

It had _other_ friends.

"_Three meals will be prepared for you each day. You will consume all the food provided for you. I will return in 3 hours with your evening meal, after which you will be provided with suitable facilities with which to see to your hygiene._

The man that stood before her was himself a perfect example of the subverted beauty Hueco Mundo offered. Lithe and porcelain-pale, he was like a delicately crafted statue, all perfect angles and proportions. His face possessed the seemingly fine-boned structure that most women would trample each other for, and the dark hair framing it was like rough silk sliding down to his shoulders. Emerald eyes blazed with the colors of life. Growth. Rebirth.

But it was a lie. She knew that the delicate china skin was really heirro, harder than tempered steel and cold as marble. His verdant green eyes did not hold life, or warmth, or even evil and menace. They held _nothing_, and were infinitely more terrifying in their dispassionate gaze than they ever could have been with the fire of hatred. But the biggest lie of all was the tear tracks staining his face, endlessly running down his cheeks as if he could feel the world's grief. He did not feel grief. Or joy. Or love. He felt _nothing. _

"Do you understand these instructions?" No. She did not understand. Now and forever, she would never understand the type of greed and avarice that led the world down the road she now gazed upon. The path of war, destruction, suffering and pain. She would never understand a man like Aizen, and she couldn't begin to fathom such a man as Ulquiorra, who _followed_ him. No, no, no.

"Yes," said her mouth.

Without further comment, he turned on his heel and strode from the room, the long ends of his coat snapping like tails behind him.

She stood before the window, and looked upon the crescent moon hanging in a starless sky. Their absence made no matter; the darkness may surround, but the stars were in her heart. Combing through her memories, she began to recite the stories her brother told her long ago. She is a powerful hunter, and the giant scorpion that killed him. She is a great bear, a hydra, a lion, and in these forms she knows no fear.*

Digging deep, she recalled as many stories as she could, lining them up in her mind until she couldn't see the end of the queue.

She would need them all.

For it was always, _always_ night in Las Noches.

*~*~*

_**Nights Since Orihime's Disappearance: 1 / Soul Society**_

They arrived in his office exactly when he expected they would. Knees and palms on the floor, their voices tripped over each other as they each tried to plead their case. The only thing that even remotely surprised Byakuya about this situation was that they didn't start elbowing each other for silence.

In all, it was a rather amusing scene—not that his amusement would show on his face. But it didn't matter how they pleaded. He had made his decisions long before this moment.

"Stop," he said, and instantly they both fell silent. He mentally shook his head. The way fear, respect, and a little bit of resentment mixed together in each of the people before him was something that both made perfect sense and confused him utterly. He wondered which feeling would overpower its fellows in the span of the next few breaths.

"I received orders to travel to the human world and ensure that you returned to Soul Society as commanded. I have completed this task and was issued no further orders concerning the matter. As far as that mission is concerned, my responsibilities are fulfilled." The look of surprise on their faces was almost comical, but he did not allow himself the indulgence of a grin.

One did not smile before they crushed another person's hopes.

"However, while I am no longer concerned with the presence or absence of the Shinigami officers at large, I am officially giving you, Lieutenant, notice that you will be accompanying me on a mission in two days' time to collect a death god from another spirit realm."

There was a second in which Byakuya could tell they had not processed what they had been told. The exact moment realization struck came in concert with a sharp, agitated reiatsu spike from Renji and a shallow gasp from Rukia.

"What?" said the red head. Surprisingly, his tone was neither hostile or outraged, but simply confused, disbelieving. _He understands the implication, then._

"To be clear, so that there is no doubt, I will reiterate myself this once. You will abandon any travel plans you may have been considering, and prepare for an interdimensional journey across spirit realms to pick up a colleague two days from now."

Without waiting for protest from Renji, he turned to Rukia and continued, "Since you are not in my squad, I have received no orders directing your comings and goings. They are therefore of no concern to me."

Byakuya thought he could hear the younger man's teeth grinding together, but he did not ask any of the questions they both knew he was trapping behind them. _Why Rukia and not me? How can you send her alone?_ Since the questions were not asked, they were not answered.

"Do you understand, Lieutenant?" Byakuya steeled his gaze, discouraging any argument. The more quickly Abarai came to grips with the situation, the more smoothly things would go.

The teeth continued to grind. "Yes, Captain," he said, looking at the ground. _So he will not argue,_ thought the noble. _Now there is only to make sure that he does not disobey. _

"Good. You are dismissed."

*~*~*

Rukia could practically feel Renji's anger, confusion, and worry on the surface of her skin in the lingering glance he cast her as he strode out the door.

That was fine; she knew his hostility wasn't directed at her.

She kept her position kneeling on the floor. Beyond the fact that she had not been dismissed, she needed to understand, as best she could, what her brother was thinking. Denying them both she expected. But restricting Renji and letting _her_ do as she pleased? _I have received no orders directing your comings and goings. They are therefore of no concern to me. _The words sounded harsh, but the reality was anything but. This was the closest her older brother would ever come to giving her permission to follow Ichigo to Hueco Mundo.

Once they were alone, she waited for anything more he would say to clarify the situation. Considering the cryptic way he had been conducting the conversation so far, she had no doubt she would have to go fishing. She did not have to wait long.

"It is inadvisable that a person traveling to strange lands should ever travel alone," he said without emphasis. "I am to understand a group of travelers are leaving from beneath the Kurosawa bridge tomorrow evening."

_Do not enter Hueco Mundo alone, _Rukia translated._ Meet up with Ichigo and company tomorrow night at the Kurosawa bridge._

He produced thick cloak from his desk drawer, and laid it neatly on the desk in front of him. Almost immediately, he turned his back and continued to speak. "A person traveling in sandy desert terrain should always wear a cloak to help withstand the ferocity of dust storms."

_Hueco Mundo has a harsh, sandy environment. Take this cloak for protection._

She slid a hand over the material, and realized that he would not turn until she had taken it, and stowed it out of sight. _He is not breaking the rules, _she understood, _he is bending them. He has not given me anything, or told me anything. He has merely been speaking out loud._

He didn't turn to say what came next. "Extreme caution and adequate preparation should always be taken when traveling."

_Be careful, Rukia._

She nodded her head, and wondered if her and her brother would ever be able to speak plainly to one another. "I'm sure all travelers recognize the dangers, and take precautions."

_I will._

He still didn't turn to face her as the silence stretched, so she rose and walked to the door.

"And one more thing," he said, his voice carrying a strange quality she had never heard in it before. She slowly turned her head to face him, her body still poised to open the door.

"It would be obvious to a blind man that my Lieutenant would follow you to end of this world or any other, if he were allowed to do so. But _he is needed here." _The inflection of the statement was only slight, but to Rukia he might as well have been holding up an enormous sign with his intentions written upon it.

Byakuya wasn't keeping Renji in Soul Society on a cruel whim. There was a very specific reason that Byakuya wouldn't let Renji be part of the team going to Hueco Mundo, and whatever it was he wasn't willing to share it. Moreover, whatever it was was _so_ serious, her brother was actually deigning to ask her for her help.

_He is needed here._ The unfinished portion of that sentence was, _Make sure he stays._

"Yes, Nii-sama," she said and bowed her head. "And also, the person that stays home? That person should be careful as well." Silently, she slid from the room.

*~*~*

_**Nights Since Orihime's Disappearance: 1 / Karakura**_

Tatsuki had to hand it to the man in clogs. She had asked that he tell them everything, and sure enough, the man had prattled on for hours. It was all she and the boys could do to drink the tea offered to them and keep up.

Though she was still positive he was keeping a number of secrets behind that silly fan, she could not deny that the fractured picture she had drawn in her mind was now a fully painted canvas. Hollows, shinigami, arrancar, the hougyoku, the Gotei 13, the Seireitei…it felt like her mind was so full that nothing more would ever fit inside of it.

The part that had interested her the most was when Urahara described the powers Orihime and Chad had developed. She had tried to hammer him with questions about them, but the man only shook his fan and told her to hold her questions for the end. _As if this were some sort of classroom lecture. _As soon as she thought it, she chided herself for sneering at the thought. After all, wasn't that what she was aiming for in the long run? For him to train her? _If not him, then who? This man is our best and only hope._

He finally drew his explanation to a close with the current state of affairs; Orihime had been kidnapped for her abilities, and Ichigo intended to storm the gates of Hueco Mundo to rescue her. Soul Society was arming up for a war that they predicted would commence in a little over one month's time, and a variety of foreign gods were adding their strength to both sides. They only thing she couldn't clearly see was her role in it all—the role she _knew_ she had.

Because come hell or high water, she wasn't just going to sit around wringing her hands in worry.

"Well?" The shopkeeper was looking at her, and she belatedly realized she had become lost in her own thoughts when he had finally deigned to take questions.

She cleared her throat. There was only one question that mattered. Only one answer that meant a damn thing. "I'm going to be blunt," she started.

"I was not aware you were ever anything but blunt, Arisawa-san," the smiling man interrupted.

"If the shopkeeper would let me finish," she said pointedly. She was not sure why, but he seemed to be trying to rile her up—almost like he was prodding her to get a reaction. She did her best not to give him the satisfaction, but it was not conducive to her showing the amount of respect she probably should to a person she was going to ask for a favor. "You said Orihime and Chad are normal humans who developed spirit powers. Well, we can see all these ghosts, and hollows, and shinigami, so that means that we're going to develop powers too, is that right?" _You had better say yes. _"I mean, as far as I can tell, we're even further along then they were when they…" What the hell was the word for it? _Was_ there a word for it? "…when they changed."

"'Probably' is the best answer that I can give you. It isn't for certain, and the only way to find out for sure is to train you to master your reiatsu. When you can control it, any abilities you may possess will reveal themselves."

_Well, at least that's something._ She mentally took the word "may" out of the sentence and cast it aside like the junk it was. Instead, she clutched at the word "train." "Are you telling us that you're going to teach us to do that?" She couldn't help but feel the hope rise in her chest with this thought.

"No."

The simplicity of his denial almost _did_ force a violent reaction from her, but she managed to choke it back. "Excuse me?" she said, more calmly than she felt.

"Believe me, I know that all three of you have a vast amount of potential stored within you, but I simply don't have the time required to train you properly." He folded his fan and set it aside, and even this soon in their meeting Tatsuki could tell he was being serious. "I have a number of important of responsibilities that must be seen to. I know that _you_ know I am not exaggerating when I say that the well being of every last person in this town relies upon the successful completion of certain tasks that have been laid before me. I am simply not capable of teaching you at this time."

His words were simple, honest, and direct—everything that Tatsuki had been looking for in an explanation, and she couldn't deny their validity. An air of purpose hung about this man like a cape, and something coiling in the pit of her stomach said that hindering him would be disastrous. But then why did it hurt so much? Why did it feel so terrible?

_Because I didn't want _just_ the truth. I didn't want just words. I wanted to be part of it._

She did not give up so easily. "Isn't there someone else?" She tried to sound reasonable and not desperate. "From what I see there are _always_ strange people running around this place, and we're not going to be choosy—"

"I'm afraid not, Arisawa-san."

"An apprentice, or another student of yours—"

"Arisawa-san."

"Or a low-level shinigami—" her voice was acquiring the sharp edge that it got when she thought the world was being unreasonable and that she should respond in kind.

"Arisawa," said Keigo, reaching for her sleeve. She did not like his tone. It sounded too much like, _Let it go._

"There's got to be somebody!" she roared at everyone, and slammed her open palm on the table top in front of her. The cup of tea she hadn't finished overturned and skittered onto the floor, leaving small rivulets of liquid running over the table and onto the carpet. For a nearly a full minute, she stared at the tea, draining away onto the floor, and thought she knew how it felt.

When she looked up, Urahara was not looking at the mess she had made in his home, but rather at her. His eyes felt heavy, as if he were gauging her, and she had the uncomfortable sensation that they were dragging over her skin. Probing. Looking for _something. _Then, just as suddenly, it was gone.

"I understand that you aren't keen on waiting, Arisawa-san. But you have my word that I will do everything I can to help you—to help all three of you—reach your full potential. You will just have to be a little patient in the mean time."

She looked him in the eyes then, and knew that he was telling the truth. Like a crushing weight, the reality of the situation was dawning. There was nothing she could do. No amount of screaming, or fighting, or pleading was going to change the fact that no one was going to help them.

If that was the case, she was done here. She stood up abruptly. "Thank you for your time, Urahara-san, and thank you for telling us the truth. We do not want to keep you from your work any longer." She didn't want to stand in this room and be told to wait one second longer. She started for the door, not sure if the boys were going to follow or not.

"Don't run off so quickly, Arisawa-san, I have one more thing to tell you."

She turned on her heel to look back at the man, his hat shading his eyes, and repressed the urge to snap at him for implying she was running away. "As you heard me tell Kurosaki, I will be assisting him to cross into another spirit realm tomorrow. I know that you're already planning to spy on his departure. And that's fine with me, as long as you give me your word you will not attempt to follow him."

"Do you really think I'd be that stupid?" She could already see the fight that she and Ichigo would have if he found her following him. And while she we was up for pounding him flat, an alternate, possibly hostile spirit realm was not the time or place for it. Besides, she didn't really want to speak with him right now, anyway. _Admit it, the real reason is that you _know_ you're too weak, _her mind whispered. She ignored it.

"No, but I think you may be that stubborn, and even more loyal. But, between you and I, I won't be sending him alone, anyway. All three of you should show up at the bridge, but remember to keep your distance. Kurosaki probably won't be able to sense you if you stay out of his line of sight."

Tatsuki was still standing at the door, but she turned her body back to the room to make her final request. "Fine, I won't interfere or get in the way tomorrow. But I want your word on one more thing."

"And what is that?" he asked, fan fluttering.

"I want your word that the memory erasures stop. Now. I want you to promise that not you, or anybody else will try and take our memories of this away." Her voice got a shade darker, "Because I'm warning you, if someone should try, I promise you that I'm not going to let them. And then I'm going to come wring answers out of _you."_

"Ho, ho. You have my word, Arisawa, that I couldn't erase your memory even if I wanted to."

That was good enough for her. "I'll hold you to that," she said while opening the door. "Tomorrow," and stepped out of the room.

The sun was rising, they had been in the store so long. She sincerely hoped her parents hadn't noticed her sneak out yesterday, and thought of ways to sneak back in without their detection.

She looked back at the two boys walking just a step behind her, and they stared back at her. For all that they were mostly silent during the meeting, a resolute promise passed between their eyes.

_Looks like we'll be training ourselves._

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_Author's Note 2:_ What's that sneaky Urahara up to? I mean, there he was testing their resolve in the last chapter, and now he tells Tatsuki he won't train them? I guess we'll just have to wait and find out what he's planning.

I don't usually write for Rukia, Byakuya, or Orihime, so please let me know if you have any suggestions for improvements in the way I wrote them. As always, commentary, critique, and thoughts in general are welcomed and embraced. A great big "You're awesome," goes out to Sironblood1, InfiniteDragon, lupina24, Nameless Flame Wielder, RandomImagination, Veggiemite, Xoroth, CWolf2, megrim, red lilies, for their reviews. You guys rock!

The next chapter will introduce the first new death god that will play a major role in the story. At last!

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_Mythology Notes:_

_All given stories of the constellations are for the Greek tradition, though I recommend that you check out the stories told by other cultures as well._

_**The hunter: Orion**_** – **Orion was an excellent hunter and a giant of a man who was said to be able to stand on the bottom of the sea without wetting his hair. Interestingly, this constellation is known as Vyudh in Indian mythology, which also means hunter.

_**The scorpion: Scorpio—**_Scorpio was a giant scorpion sent by Artemis (aka Diana) to kill Orion for his excessive boasting that he would kill all the wild beasts of the world. When Scorpio rises, Orion sinks—as if he's running away.

_**The great bear: Ursa Major/The Big Dipper—**_When the ever-lustful Zeus fancies a woman named Kallisto, Hera (Zeus's wife) turns her into a bear. Later, her son Arcas almost shoots her while he's out hunting, not realizing the bear is his mother. Zeus sweeps them both into the sky to prevent him from killing her. As a side note, there are a great many cultures that see this constellation as a bear.

_**The hydra: The Leraean Hydra—**_A many headed serpent that was killed by Hercules as one of his 12 labors. In some descriptions, two heads arise on the beast for every one that is cut off.

_**The lion: Leo, the Nemean Lion—**_A lion with impenetrable skin that was killed by Hercules as one of his 12 labors. Because its skin was impervious to any blade or arrow, Hercules had to strangle it to kill it, and the only thing that could cut its hide off was its own claws.


	5. Prayers in the Streetlight

_Disclaimer:_ I do not own any of the characters in the following work. All recognizable anime characters belong to Tite Kubo. All others characters are adapted from a diverse spread of cultural and mythological lore. I am making no profit from this story.

_Author's Note 1:_ My sincere apologies that this story took such a long hiatus. It's been a wild couple of months. To make up for it, here's a fairly lengthy chapter, and my assurance to you that I've been writing some material for future chapters—so the wait shouldn't be so long for the next one.

Dialogue between Ichigo, Ishida, Chad, and Rukia in the first section is taken (with some rearrangement) from chapters 239 and 247 of the manga. If I'm kinda skimpy in that section's writing, it's because I'm drawing that part from these chapters, and am kinda assuming people are already familiar with them. Enjoy!

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**Chapter 5: Prayers in the Streetlight**

_On my knees in the night_

_Saying prayers in the streetlight_

-Gangsta's Paradise

by Coolio

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_**Nights Since Orihime's Disappearance: 2 / Karakura**_

If you had told Ichigo a few years ago that he would spend a miserable night sleeping in a tree—in his spirit form—because he was afraid that going home meant any number of people would try to stop him from entering an evil domain on a rescue mission, he would have pointedly ignored you with a scowl more severe than usual. Yet there he was, a testament to the unpredictability of the universe, walking to the Kurosawa Bridge with twigs clinging to his hair. The dark circles under his eyes indicated just how little sleep he had actually achieved, and, if possible, his appearance was even more haggard and drawn than on the previous night.

Damn tree.

He had waited in a deserted forest outside Karakura until it was time. Originally, he had intended to spend the time training, but later thought better of it—no need to announce to the entire spirit world where he was. So training was tabled for planning, planning dissolved into waiting, waiting slid into brooding, and within the first couple of hours he had worked himself into an impossibly miserable mood. It was almost a relief when at last the moon was on the rise.

"What a pleasant evening for interdimensional travel, Kurosaki-san," called Urahara as he drew closer to the base of the bridge. "Too bad it doesn't appear to have put you in a good mood."

Ichigo was about to tell him where he could shove that comment when a voice spoke up from the darkness underneath the bridge. "That _is_ a pretty long face Kurosaki."

He knew that voice. "Ishida?! Why are you here?"

"It's obvious, isn't it?" The other boy stepped into the moonlight. "To go to Hueco Mundo."

He opened his mouth to protest when he heard the fall of heavy footsteps behind him. He didn't have to turn to know who it was, but he turned to face his friend just the same. "Chad!"

"We heard the news from Urahara-san," came Chad's deep voice, "and we're going too." His tone said, "And that's final," more clearly than if the tall boy had actually spoken the words.

But their clear determination didn't change the fact that they weren't powerful enough to survive the fight Ichigo had in mind. _It's not like refusing their help will be the hardest conversation I've had to face in the last few days, anyway. _Chad was soft-spoken, but direct. It would be best to approach this in a similar fashion. _When I point out how dangerous it is at their level, they will both listen to reason._ He hoped. He desperately wanted to avoid another scene like yesterday. He didn't think he could run around all that well if he was weighed down with any more guilt.

"You can't. I appreciate the sentiment, but…" It was difficult to say, difficult to hurt more friends, but they weren't strong enough. That was the truth. "With your power…"

He had virtually no time to react, and his only warning was Chad's voice calling his name. As a result, it was only unthinking impulse that allowed him to turn his body enough to get his sword in the way of Chad's mighty right fist.

The concussive force of the impact left his ears ringing, and it was more than obvious that Chad's power had increased exponentially. But the _real_ tell was in the fact that Chad had _not_ used all of his strength in the blow. He could feel it.

Chad had been practicing when he wasn't looking.

"Even after that, is my power still not enough, Ichigo?"

He should have been pleased. He should have been goddamned cheerful that his friend had increased his power by such a degree. But all he could feel was the dull shame of having underestimated him, and the growing dread that this only meant his friend would be following him to his doom.

Chad must have seen this in his eyes. "Believe in us, Ichigo. Don't carry the burden by yourself. That's what nakama are for."

He held his shoulders in a tense stance. It was difficult to look Chad in the eye. After his fight with Tatsuki, the word 'nakama' filled him with shame. Of course, Chad was right. Nakama shared challenges, faced them together. This had been demonstrated between himself and a long line of friends in various forms of combat. But you couldn't help carry a burden that was out of your weight class.

He couldn't dwell on it for longer than a second, as a tiny fist lunged out of nowhere and connected with his chin. Hard.

"FOOL!"

He wiped the blood from under his nose and looked down into violet eyes. "Rukia?"

He didn't have time to be surprised by her entrance before she pounded him with questions. "You were going to enter Hueco Mundo on your own?! You weren't going to wait for me to return?!"

His expression was sheepish. He supposed "yes" wouldn't be a satisfactory answer, obvious as it was. "But…you left like that, I didn't know if you were gonna come back or—"

"Of course I was going to come back!" she yelled in his face. "By any means necessary! Renji and I—"

She cut herself off abruptly, and huffed in frustration. Ichigo's eyebrows drew together in confusion. _Renji? Is he here too?_ He looked around, but no tall red head jumped from the shadows to punch him upside the head.

When she spoke again, it was in a much calmer voice. "Renji and I planned that from the start. He had to leave on an emergency mission, so he'll meet up with us later. But he _is_ coming to your side. Just like I'm here now." The resolve in her voice brooked no doubt about that fact.

"Why didn't you wait for it? Why didn't you have faith in that?" She looked him directly in the eyes, and he saw no challenge there. Only a question. "We are your nakama. Aren't we, Ichigo?"

There was that question again, for the third time in two days. He took a deep breath, and accepted what the universe must be trying to tell him. _All right. I get it. This is not my burden to bear alone. And I can't shove everyone away and pretend that it is, not even to keep them safe. _He sighed out the breath. _They won't _let_ me._

He thought about the others, and about what it must have been like to be aware of all this ridiculous stuff happening without anyone to talk about it with. Bearing that burden alone._ Tatsuki, Keigo, Mizuiro, I'm sorry. _It was alright. He would tell them when he came back. No time to dwell on it now.

"Yeah, you're right," he said to everyone. "You're right." And in spite of his misgivings, knowing he would not be facing this journey alone made the crushing fear he had pushed into the corners of his heart ease, if only a wee bit.

"Yes, well," said Urahara, who while clearly pleased that everything had come together, also wanted to move things along. He wasn't the only one. "I've a lot of instructions I need to give you all, and time is of the essence. The gateway will soon be opened. So gather in and listen up."

The four travelers converged in line so that they were all more-or-less facing him. In moving around, Ichigo noticed that Rukia had picked up a light-colored cloak somewhere. He made a mental note to ask about it later.

"When you meet the elder death goddess on the other side, there are a couple of formal pleasantries you should observe," his fan flipped out to hide his face. "She will address each of you in turn. Do not speak until she has spoken to you. When you have been acknowledged, introduce yourself using your full name, and pay her a complement."

Ichigo frowned. "A complement? Why?"

"I have no time to teach you proper manners, Kurosaki-san. Just be sure to pay her a complement at the appropriate time. It can be anything, as long as you genuinely mean what you say. She will know if you're not being truthful." Urahara lowered his fan so that they could all see his face. "Which brings me to my next point. As I have informed each of you, you might have to pass through a number of gates in order to get to Hueco Mundo. Over the course of your journey, you will undoubtedly encounter gods much older than most of the Shinigami captains. Many of the old gods have special abilities, particularly in their own realms. For example, your initial contact is particularly sensitive to even the most minor deceit. From this point forward, you should be careful not to make assumptions about anyone you meet."

"Are you saying that we should expect possible attacks from the other pantheons before we reach Hueco Mundo?" the flinty edge of Rukia's voice was not lost on Ichigo. She was as geared up for a fight as he was.

"Not as such. But imagine, for an instant, being caught in a lie by a god of truth. Even if the lie is a harmless one, you've insulted someone in their home, and given them a reason to mistrust you. And evenwith manners as bad as _yours_, Kurosaki, you should know that's bad form when they are helping you save your friend."

Everyone absorbed that bit of information, until Ishida broke the silence. "What about the device you mentioned earlier?" Apparently Hat-n-Clogs had filled them in on the situation in the Seireitei as well.

"Ah, yes," said Urahara. He produced an object wrapped in cloth roughly the size and shape of a liter bottle from somewhere in his robe. "After the introductions, you will give her this artifact. Once she has put it on, she'll leave you with additional guides and step through into our world."

As Ichigo stepped forward to take the wrapped object, Chad spoke up. "And these guides will take us to the next gate?"

"That's right. On each leg of the journey, appropriate arrangements for additional guides will be made for you along the way." Ichigo didn't like the sound of that. He had been ready to plunge head-first into the uncertainty of Hueco Mundo, but the prospect of traveling through many such unknown worlds, and placing himself in the hands of mysterious, _powerful _strangers was not increasing his comfort level.

But it certainly wasn't diminishing his resolve, either. _I knew the path would be hard when I chose it. Inoue's a captive in Hueco Mundo. I'm going to get her back._ He paused in his thoughts, looking upon the friends that had so recently forced their way through his stubborn resolve to go alone. _No, _we're_ going to get her back. _The thought made him feel stronger, more hopeful.

Until something Urahara had thrown at him hit him in the eye.

"Ow! What the hell was that for?!" he shouted. The surprise had nearly caused him to drop the artifact.

"For getting lost in thought while I was still giving you instructions," said the shopkeeper cheerfully. When Ichigo's eye finally stopped watering, he could see Urahara had produced satchels seemingly out of nowhere and was handing one to each of them.

"But you didn't have to—" his angry retort was cut short when he looked down to see a glint of gold in the grass. "What the hell is that?" He picked up the shining piece to discover it was a heavy gold coin, the face on the front long since worn to nothing but a vague, smooth shape.

"It's a gold drachma,*" said Urhara as he handed Ichigo his bag. Looking up again, he could see the other three turning similar coins in their hands.

"What is it for?" asked Rukia.

"Maybe nothing. When and if you need it, you'll know."

"And the bags?" asked Chad. He had opened his and produced an energy bar from inside it. Ichigo peered into the one he was handed to see a pile of similar bars, as well as some dehydrated foodstuffs and bottles of water.

Urahara snorted and pulled out his pipe from somewhere in his sleeve. "Tramping around through spirit realms, and none of you know even the most basic myths. Don't any of you read?"

"Let me guess," started Ichigo. "There's no food in the Underworlds?"

The shopkeeper shook his head as made a "tsk-tsk" noise. "On the contrary, food will probably be delicious and plentiful. But 'Rule Number One' of the Underworld concept is 'Don't eat the food.'* Of course, this is a bit of an exaggeration. Arrangements can always be made for suitable foods. But your best rule of thumb is to only eat or drink items that were given to you by persons you trust and have been assured are safe. Wherever you find yourself without such resources, use what I've provided."

Ichigo nodded with the others, and began to feel his impatience grow. There were enough emergency rations to keep them alive for two weeks. This meant that Urahara expected the mission to last at _least_ that long. That had to leave _now. The more time we waste…_

Just when he was about to ask Urahara when they could get the show on the road, Ichigo began to feel a distinct buzzing sensation travel over his skin.

"Ah, she's arrived," said Urahara. The air shimmered a bit in the darkness beneath the bridge, and a thin, bright line slowly appeared. _It's almost hypnotic_, thought Ichigo as its brightness became almost blinding. Then, so suddenly almost everyone present jumped back a pace, a loud crack rent the air and the line spread into a portal of light seven feet high and nearly six feet across.

"She won't be able to keep the door open for long," said Urahara, his voice sounding loud in the silence that followed the portal's opening. "Hurry and get going. And don't forget what I've told you."

Ichigo stared at the shopkeeper, and just for a second, he thought he saw something there that was earnest and not calculated. It looked like it could have been hope. It was gone before Ichigo could blink. "Thank you, Urahara."

Urahara smiled. "Good luck to all of you."

Without further thought or preamble, Ichigo dove forward into the portal. _I'm coming, Inoue._

***~*~***

**_Nights Since Orihime's Disappearance: 2 / ?_  
**

The first thing that Chad noticed when he stepped inside the rift was the dryness of the place, as if all the humidity that had ever hung in the air had been sucked out long ago. The second was the layer of sand that scraped between his feet and the stone floor, making everything feel gritty and just _harsh_ in general.

The third was the woman standing twenty feet in front of them.

_A goddess, _he thought. And in the feel of power radiating from her, he knew instinctively this was correct. She was not a goddess in the sense that Rukia was, or even Captain Unohana with her quiet, immense reiatsu—goddesses without a doubt, but spirits of mortals elevated above their peers in death. In contrast, the woman before him was not now, nor had she ever been, a part of the mortal world. She was old when the makings of humanity were young.

Or maybe the feeling of _other_ was just intensified because she was so very tall. She had to stand at least six feet high, and while he had known a few others approaching his height, none of them had ever been women. Long black hair cascaded down her shoulders and over a white, tunic-style dress that stood in contrast to her dark olive skin. Wide bands of gold encircled her neck, wrists, and ankles above bare feet.

He shifted his eyes to his companions and was relieved to see that he was not the only one openly staring. Ichigo in particular was managing an expression somewhere between bewilderment and wariness. The woman slid obsidian eyes to him and broke the silence.

"Do you know me, child?"* she asked Ichigo. Her voice was as smooth and sharp as a whetted blade, and seemed to bounce and resonate over the stone walls that surrounded them.

Caught off guard, there was a beat of silence before Ichigo got out a quick, "No." There was another awkward pause while she looked expectantly at the boy, until it seemed that he finally remembered Urahara's instructions and said, "My name is Kurosaki Ichigo. You're…uh…you're very…uh…lovely." His faced turned a shade of pink that Chad could only describe as sickly.

She reached forward and placed a hand over his heart, and Chad felt a pang of sympathy for his long time friend when the boy almost jumped out of his skin at the gesture. _He is used to strangers swinging swords at him, not this. _To Chad his discomfort was obvious, but if the woman noticed it she did not react. "You are not one of mine,* Kurosaki Ichigo, but you are well met." Just when he wondered how Ichigo would respond to _that, _she turned away from him and fixed her stare on Chad.

He was easily five inches taller, yet she seemed to tower over him as she took a step closer. _How does she do that? _Chad wondered if staring a Shinigami captain in the eyes felt similar. "Do you know me, child?" she asked, and her voice rang with the authority and wisdom of tribe elder. Unbidden, the memory of his grandfather surged forward. _How did she do _that_?_

He met her gaze with a steady eye. Something was telling him he was being judged, and he did not want to be found wanting. He wondered if Ichigo had felt the same thing, and if that's why he got flustered. But in the end, he couldn't imagine Ichigo showing anything but determination in the face of a challenge. "I do not. I am Sado Yasutora," he said in his deep voice. He inclined his head. "You are a woman of great stature and poise."

A hand was laid on his heart. "You are not one of mine, Sado Yasutora, but you are well met." _Perhaps that means I pass._ In any case, he could detect the welcome in the statement, and he let out the breath he hadn't known he was holding. The woman moved on, and for the first time Chad caught a glimpse of a large, dark feather hanging from the tresses of hair at the back of her head. _I'd like to see the bird that came from._

"Do you know me, child?" she asked Ishida, and her voice was as straight and direct as a well-aimed arrow. He wondered if anyone else noticed the subtle changes in tone._ I wonder what she's the goddess of._

"No, I don't. My name is Ishida Uryuu. It is a great honor to meet a death god of your experience and wisdom."

A hand. A heart. "You are not one of mine, Ishida Uryuu, but you are well met."

She turned to Rukia, and gave the barest of pauses before asking her question. "Do you know me?" she asked. This time, her voice seemed to gently hint at sadness, like sympathy for a hurt long passed.

At first Chad thought he might have imagined variations in the woman's tone, until he noticed the way Rukia paused at her words. But she was a warrior, after all, and recovered quickly, "No. My name is Kuchiki Rukia. I am honored to meet a death goddess of another pantheon."

The strange woman's face continued to look faintly mournful. She reached forward to place a hand on Rukia's chest, but paused a split second before making contact, as if she might reconsider. The indecision only lasted a second before the olive hand came down to meet Rukia's kimono. In a voice so low Chad had to strain to make out the words, the goddess said, "Still, child?" She shook her head. "You are not one of mine, Kuchiki Rukia, and neither was he. But take heed of this advice I offer unto you. The desert is vast and harsh. Do not travel with water in your jug that you cannot drink. Pour it to the earth and let it nourish the plants if it cannot sustain you, and fill your vessel from the flowing streams nearby. For when those streams dry up in the cruel summer, child, you will never have another chance."

To say Rukia looked confused was an understatement, though Chad could see a trace of something that had nothing to do with bewilderment on her face. He might have imagined it, but Chad thought it looked a little bit like sadness.

The moment had passed and the woman turned to face all four of them. "You are all most welcomed to Duat.* I am Ma'at,* daughter of Ra, judger of men's hearts. I am the goddess chosen by my people and yours to receive the artifact and travel to your world."

Ichigo produced the cloth wrapped bundled and stepped forward. If there were some sort of formal words to be spoken, Ichigo apparently didn't know them, and instead he simply placed the object in her hands without comment.

The woman uncoiled the cloth and Chad caught a gleam of gold as she lifted the artifact up. It was a golden snake, beginning with a hooded cobra head, coiling around an empty center, and ending in a curled tail. It was not until she began to slide it up her arm that he realized it was a piece of jewelry, to be worn coiled around her bicep. For a piece made by a Shinigami, it matched the rest of her style quite well.

"I thank you for your services, Kurosaki Ichigo. I have arranged lodging and accommodations for you until you leave this world."

"Lodging?" came Ishida's voice. "I thought guides would take us to the next gate once we had given you the artifact." He was careful to keep his voice even and devoid of accusation, but Chad could still hear the impatience lacing his words. He could not blame him. _Inoue is waiting._

Apparently she could hear it too. "I understand that your mission is urgent, but the gates between Underworlds can only be opened during the full and new phases of the moon in your world. It will be four days before you can move on."*

Chad thought he could hear Ichigo's teeth grinding, but he wisely kept from an outburst. Rukia, ever the voice of reason, spoke up instead. "What will we do in the mean time?"

The woman smiled, and Chad could see her teeth. _Judger of men, indeed._ "Why, train, of course. I'm told that the enemies holding your friend are powerful, and their numbers and diversity continue to grow. While you await your departure, you will train with the warriors of our pantheon. I expect they will have much to teach you."

"But the side effects," said Rukia. "We won't be able to release our full powers here."

Ma'at actually snorted. "Young people. Always leaping to the end before they understand the beginning. Power is built like a pyramid, not an obelisk—the wider the base, the higher the peak. While here, you will be training extensively in your least released state. The greater your strength here, the greater your "full power" when it can be realized."

She looked like she might continue, until the door they had stepped through began to flicker and crackle with noise. "I must cross now. I leave you in the care of my sister. You have my sincerest wishes of luck for the rescue of your friend. This is not the last time we will meet."

Without waiting for a response, she smoothly stepped past them and through the portal, which closed seconds later.

For a minute, they all started at the space the portal had occupied. It was Ishida that voiced the question on everyone's mind. "Sister?"

A deep rumble echoed down the stone corridor towards them. Chad turned to the end of the hall to see a feline shape slink to its feet, just out of view in the darkness.

Why did he have such a sinking feeling of déjà vu?

***~*~***

**_Night Since Orihime's Disappearance: 2 / Karakura_  
**

Kneeling behind shrubbery along the roadside, Tatsuki watched the group step through the portal, and felt torrent of emotions storm through her chest. Fear for her friends, anger at her circumstances, shame for her weakness, jealousy of those deemed strong enough to go—they all rattled though her with such force that she had to reach a hand up to cover her eyes lest the boys see them welling with tears. The other hand clasped the plant life in front of her so hard she was sure the twigs had pierced her skin.

None of them spoke. None of them needed to.

They had arrived far ahead of the others, and been warned by Urahara not to leave until the god from the other side had passed through and departed with him; he did not want to take any chances that they would be discovered. Though mildly curious what sort of spirit was coming through the rift, the truth was that she wanted nothing more than to find a place to beat out her frustration on some unsuspecting training equipment. Even in this, she was denied.

So she did the only thing she could do. She pressed the palms of her hands firmly to the earth beneath her, the only stable thing left in her world, and took a few deep, calming breaths. She thought of the training sessions she and the boys had planned after leaving Urahara's, and let the though of action comfort her, no matter how little or how late it was. She would not give up. She wasn't made that way.

_I swear. To whatever gods are out there watching, to whatever gods can hear me and give a damn, I swear I will get stronger. So you better take care of my friends until I do._

The bathing orange light of the streetlamps flickered, and it felt to Tatsuki as if every nerve in her body was suddenly alert. Her first, wild thought was, _Crap, did something hear me?_ followed closely by, _Keigo is nudging me in the ribs._

"Holy crap!" came his low, urgent whisper. "Look at _her."_

***~*~***

The woman who stepped through the rip was striking in a way that Urahara supposed few were. It wasn't her beauty, or her stature, or even the power that seemed to radiate from her like light from a torch; she was not particularly unique in these respects, as there were plenty of women in Soul Society that could claim all three of these attributes in spades. Instead, it was the overwhelming sense of _time_ she carried with her, as if the history of the world held little mystery for her. He guessed it was to be expected—she had presided over the dead for more than 5,000 years.

Bare feet settled on the ground beneath the rip, toes wiggling in the grass. She lifted her arms into the light drizzle that had begun to descend from the heavens, and the voice that came out of her throat was dark like smoky quartz, dark like her olive-toned skin. "It has been a long time," she proclaimed to the sky. "It has been _too long_ since I have felt the Earth beneath my feet." Before he could stop her, or suggest that now wasn't the appropriate time to go for a swim, she had waded to her thighs in the nearby river, soaking the bottom of her white linen garment. It had been millennia since she last walked the Earth, and he expected something of the sort, but he still shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. He did not look forward to bringing a dripping wet goddess in a see-through gown back to Yoruichi at the shop.

He waited patiently, face angled politely away, and after a few long minutes, she waded back out of the water and approached him. It did not escape his notice that by the time she did, her dress was dry again. "I am Ma'at, daughter of Ra. By the conditions of the Oath, I have come as a representative of my people to assist your pantheon in defeating the imbalance threatening the realms." Her Japanese carried a strange accent, but was perfect nonetheless. He let out a silent breath of relief, as his spoken ancient Egyptian was rusty at best.

"I am Urahara Kisuke, former Captain of the Goeti 13 and their current emissary. I welcome you on behalf of my fellows. We are honored by your presence and by the fulfillment of the Oath by your people."

She absently nodded her head, as aware as he was that the words were just a formality. They had already been in correspondence to make arrangements for her travel and reception of the artifact. After all, his written Egyptian was much better. _Drawing birds, snakes, and reed leaves are easier than kanji, anyhow. _"Now that the pleasantries are concluded, I'd like to compliment you on your creation," she said as she ran a finger along the golden serpent's head. "Functional and beautiful. I cannot feel any discomfort. Though I had expected something a little more…"

"Plain?" As if. Urahara Kisuke did not do things by halves.

"Discreet. I was worried it would be a tiny object, or a fragile one. As delicate as the power it contains." She tapped on the metal with a long finger. "Do not misunderstand my words. Better for it to be sturdy. I feared it would be something I could break or lose. This is much better than I'd hoped. But that means it cannot be _concealed_ either."

"Because of the nature of its purpose, I met with some restriction in its design. It had to be at least that large, and it had to coil around a portion of your person. Given this, I tried to match it to the infamous style of your people to hide it in plain sight. Since it's not readily apparent, it shouldn't be easily discovered. Or removed."

The woman's laughter was as dark as her eyes. "My sister might be the true warrior woman, but I doubt that the denizens of your underworld will find me easy prey, even if they do discover it."

"An understatement if ever one was uttered." He smiled and again drew his pipe from one of his sleeves. Business would not wait forever. "I hope it doesn't come as an imposition, but our trip to Soul Society must be postponed until tomorrow evening. A team from Soul Society is leaving tomorrow morning to retrieve another ally, and the Lord of the Crossroads has asked that we wait to rendezvous with them so that he only has to open the gate once."

"That old witch doctor?" She chuckled lightly. "I am pleased to know he has thrown his top hat into the conflict. I do not mind waiting of an evening. It will give us time to discuss a great many things I am curious about, such as what others have answered the Oath, who you suspect has thrown in with Aizen Sosuke, and why there are children staring at us."

Another man would have blinked at the non-sequiter, but Urahara had been waiting for her to bring them up. After all, the whole purpose of having them come was for them to be seen. "Those are some of Kurosaki's friends. The came to witness his departure." Which was the truth. One _had_ to tell the truth to Ma'at.

"From afar?" The disbelief in her voice was plain, and Urahara could hear her baiting him to tell her more. But did she see the hook that _he_ had cast?

"Kurosaki's friends have displayed a great potential in their spiritual awareness and reiatsu levels, but it is only recently that it has come to light, and therefore it has not yet amounted to any usable skill. They wish to accompany their friends, or at least assist them, but I have no available resources to spare towards their training. In the mean time, their friends would prefer they stay out of the altercation all together, which includes their presence at, and knowledge of, events such as these." He smiled faintly, "Obviously they disagree."

She pursed her lips in displeasure. "It has been my understanding that you need all the assistance you can muster. Under the circumstances, turning away eager students is unwise, and insulting to those that are making sacrifices to assist you. You are not the only Shinigami, Urahara Kiskuke. Surely someone else can instruct them. The Winter War will not commence for at least another moon. That is more than enough time to prepare them to assist as non-combatants, at least, or low-level fighters."

When he shook his head, it was with real regret. "Soul Society would not welcome more humans into the Seireitei only to turn the place upside down again. It took a full-out siege of Soul Society to gain Ichigo an almost begrudging acceptance, and his three current human companions as well. Now, one of those humans has been designated a traitor—no matter how false those charges are—and the rest of them have disobeyed direct orders and charged after her, at a time when Soul Society believes their strength is needed here. From Yamamoto's perspective, devoting Shinigami time to training kids that could very likely turn out to be just as troublesome is a waste. Without outside assistance, those three will simply have to wait until this war has passed."

"Outside assistance? You envision someone else training them, then?" She actually _harrumphed. _"You know that I am no warrior, Urahara Kisuke. That is not why you brought me here. I could not train anyone in combat, let alone in the ways of your people."

"Of course, Ma'at-sama. I'm afraid you have misunderstood. It was never my intention that you should train anybody—I would never presume to request more of you than we are already taking. In fact, it is far more appropriate that _you_ should be asking a favor of us. And I am sure that my colleagues in Soul Society would grant you any possible boon that is within their power, given the current situation, as thanks for agreeing to help us."

"A boon, is it?" Her sister might be the true warrior of the family, but when Ma'at smiled, she showed teeth. "You need not be coy with me, Urahara Kisuke. If you would like me to use my influence to persuade your people to taking responsibility for these children, you need only ask."

Let no one say Urahara did not have the good grace to look slightly embarrassed, even though there was not a single word in the conversation he hadn't anticipated. "I would not presume."

"Urahara Kisuke, you are not one of mine, but I know your heart. I know the rhythm of its pulse, and the face of the woman that lives within it. I know the dark spaces in its chambers that you cannot sweep away, and the look on your mother's face the first time you suckled from her breast. I know what it is you intend, because _I know your heart_.*

"And, more importantly, I know _theirs._ I can feel their longing and their frustration from here. It is insulting, knowing that there are beings sacrificing more than you can imagine to help you, and you are turning away your own who yearn to assist." Her words were harsh, but her tone was not. After all, she was the judger of men's hearts, and she knew he felt the same way. "I will speak with your king," she said into the silence that lingered after her pronouncement.

Urahara nodded, and thought about how much he loved it when a plan started to come together.

"Oh, there's one more thing," she said, turning to the shopkeeper.

"What's that?"

"Is there a reason all four children complimented me with they introduced themselves?"

It was difficult to hide his snort of derision, but he managed. "It costs one nothing to be polite."

She shook her head and smiled. "You made the orange-haired boy very uncomfortable."

"He'll be fine. And besides, when it comes to complimenting ladies, he'll need all the practice we can force upon him." _If he lives,_ Urahara's mind whispered, unbidden. _He'll get to use it if he lives._

**

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_Author's Note 2:_ That Urahara's a sneaky guy. I'll give you the internets if you can decipher what Ma'at is really trying to tell Rukia. Also, I want to clarify now that while Tatsuki and the others are witnessing this exchange, they are too far away to hear what is being said.

A great big "You Rock" goes to Nameless Flame Wielder, InfiniteDragon, Sironblood1, dragonlayer, Veggiemite, Tango Dancer, red lilies, and Delphine Pryde for their reviews, everyone who has this story favorite or alert, and everyone who came back to continue reading this story after such a long break. I hope to be much more timely in my updates from here on out (or at least relatively more timely, anyway). In any case, I already have parts of the end written, so you have my assurance that no matter how infrequent updates become this story will not be abandoned.

As always, constructive criticism is welcomed and embraced, and reviews in general totally make me write faster.

Next time: Our favorite fire head and strong silent type head for a land of ice and snow!

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_Mythology Notes:_

_Please note that a lot of references were made in this chapter that won't be defined here. That's because they're going to come up again as the story progresses, and will be explained when they become relevant._

**Gold Drachma: **A type of coin used in ancient Greece. More on this later.

**Food of the Underworld: **It is common in underworld myths that visiting mortals and immortals should not eat the food there, or they'll be bound there forever. One of the best examples of this is the story of Persephone and Hades. Hades, the god of the Greek underworld, kidnaps Persephone to his realm. Her mother, Demeter, the goddess of the Earth, is so upset with her loss that the Earth becomes barren. Zeus forces Hades to release her, but before she leaves the realm, she eats a pomegranate. Because of this, she is bound to return to underworld for part of every year. The time of year when Persephone and Demeter are separated the Earth is barren and withered with Demeter's grief—winter.

**Do you know me? **Older gods like to know they are remembered. They like to be recognized even more. Expect this question to be asked of humans when they meet up with gods that aren't widely recognized.

**You are not one of mine. **A polite acknowledgement that the speaker is not the death god that services the addressee.

**Duat:** The Egyptian underworld. More on this as the Hueco Mundo crew spend time there.

**Ma'at:** The Egyptian goddess of order, truth, and justice. In some stories, it was she who ordered the universe from the chaos of its creation, and she continues to keep it form slipping back into chaos. Her biggest ongoing role is in the judgment of souls in the underworld. Along with the other gods of the underworld (such as Anubis and Osiris), she weighs the hearts of the dead against her feather, which she keeps in her hair when it is not in use. For this reason, she is said to be the keeper and knower of mens' hearts. In this story, this is expressed as her knowing what is in another's heart, but to be clear, NOT reading their minds. This will be true of mortals and immortals even if they are not under her jurisdiction, though the stronger someone is the more difficult it would be (assuming they're _trying_ to block her). More will be revealed about Ma'at as time goes on.

**Full/New Moon: **This is astronomy, not mythology, but just so everyone knows, there is either a full moon or a new moon (a new moon is when you don't see any moon at all) every two weeks. For the purpose of this story, you can open a door from an underworld to our realm at any time (death gods have to come and go as they please) but you can only open the door _between_ underworlds during a new or full moon—every two weeks.


	6. To the Crossroads

_Disclaimer:_ I do not own any of the characters in the following work. All recognizable anime characters belong to Tite Kubo. All others characters are adapted from a diverse spread of cultural and mythological lore. I am making no profit from this story.

_Author's Note 1:_ For those of you following the story before now, you may notice new headers here and in the previous chapters that weren't there before. Now that this story is taking place in no less than four realms at any one time, I've decided we should all have a scorecard to follow. The night of Orihime's departure is _**Nights Since Orihime's Disappearance: 0.**_The day after is _**Nights Since Orihime's Disappearance: 1**_, etc. Hopefully this will help everyone keep track, because some things that appear in the same chapter may not actually be happening at the same time (though they'll never be more than a couple of days out of sync).

Some dialogue in this chapter taken from manga chapters 248 & 262.

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**Chapter 6: To the Crossroads**

_I went down to the crossroads_

_Fell down on my knees_

_Asked the lord above, "Have mercy now,_

_Save poor Bob if you please."_

-Crossroad Blues

by Robert Johnson*

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_**Nights Since Orihime's Disappearance: 3 / Hueco Mundo**_

Despite what he said the first night about returning with her evening meal, Orihime hadn't seen Ulquiorra after he left her in the pristine room that was her prison. Since then, the only people she had seen at all were the arrancar that brought her daily meals and escorted her to the bath—and they wouldn't speak to her, no matter how polite or talkative she was.

The first day, she sat in the solitude and thought up stories of heroic princesses that fought dragons, traversed unknowable labyrinths, and saved their robot friends from certain malfunction. She usually stopped weaving the tales just before the end, when the handsome prince swept the heroine off her feet for a congratulatory kiss. All the handsome princes looked like Kurosaki, and she did not want to think about Kurosaki right now. If she did, a cruel voice inside her head would point out that her chance to kiss him in real life had come and gone, and she'd wasted it.

The second day started out very similar to the first, until after breakfast. When she had been led to the large bathing room down the hall from her chambers and left to clean herself, she unconsciously had begun to hum. Random notes at first, but as she scrubbed her fingers against her scalp with the scentless soap provided, the tune turned into _Twinkle Twinkle Little Star._ From there it morphed into _Row Row Row Your Boat,_ and by the time she was drying off with a towel she was loudly humming the theme songs to her favorite television shows. Long after dinner had been finished, she was lulling herself to sleep with a song about the Peach Boy and tapping her fingers on the side of her bed for percussion.

Upon waking this morning, she decided that there wasn't any reason to hold back, and words for the songs fell forth from her mouth. The first song came out croaking and hoarse, having not spoken in two whole days save to say "Thank you," and "I'm finished." But after a few warm-ups, she started working her way through her favorites. She had gotten halfway through a song by Kimura Yumi when it happened.

"Surprising. It looks good on you."

After almost three entire days of near silence, with nothing but her own voice and the squeaking wheels of her food cart to entertain her ears, it was no wonder that she positively _squawked_ when Ulquiorra's voice rent the stillness behind her. No matter how flat or low-pitched his tone was, it was still like a crack of thunder sounding in an enclosed space.

Ridiculously, her first thought was of embarrassment that he must have heard her singing. _Has he been listening this whole time?! _ "How long have you been there?!" she blurted. She instantly regretted that _those_ were the first words she could stammer out. _It makes me sound like a naughty child._

"Spare me your incoherent bleating. It's annoying." And yet, he did not sound particularly annoyed. Or pleased. Or angry. Or _anything. _His words were cutting and cruel, but his voice held only the harshness of an arctic desert: a terrible, cold emptiness. Orihime wasn't sure which was worse—hearing him insult her with that flat voice, or being complimented in it.

Nevertheless, she couldn't say for certain if it was her statement or her singing that was the offensive "bleating" he referred to, so she simply held her tongue and looked at her shoes. _Sandals_, she corrected herself. _My school shoes and school uniform were destroyed. I wear a Hueco Mundo uniform now._

She wasn't sure if the silence lasted an hour or only a minute before he finally broke it. "Breakfast time." She had never heard those words sound more like a command.

The food cart was wheeled in by a female arrancar whom she may or may not have seen with the cart before. As usual, it was wheeled to the lone table in the room and abandoned immediately by the driver, who did not look in her direction.

Ulquiorra, however, stood by the door as if he was carved from marble. _As still as marble, as cold, as pale. _His eyes were affixed to some blank spot on the wall, but she still felt observed, like an animal in a cage. She wondered why he was even there, but couldn't bring herself to ask.

Her stomach rumbled, and she decided that if he was here to watch her eat, she might as well comply.

Breakfast was a western dish. Scrambled eggs and some sort of food made from minced meat and potatoes.* A jug of orange juice _and _a carafe of water. While not terrible, it was as bland (_unimaginative) _as all the food she had been fed so far, and was rendered even more tasteless by the fact that Ulquiorra's empty presence was lingering in the room like an oppressive, silent shadow. She set the western utensils down after consuming only half the meal.

His response was immediate and sharp. "You will finish everything that's been provided for you." His sudden statement made her jerk and knock her fork to the floor. Her hands still clumsy with surprise, she reached down to pick it up. Bent down, she took the opportunity to inhale a few deep breaths before turning to face him.

His eyes were now focused directly on hers, as if he could force her into compliance with his gaze alone. He probably could. But the fact of the matter was that her stomach felt jittery and sour, and if she put anything more in it she was likely to loose what she had already eaten.

She thought of Kurosaki, and of Tatsuki, and how they would bravely tell Ulquiorra that they were done with breakfast. _I am going to be here the rest of my life,_ she thought. _And I have control over nothing. But this is a tiny, insignificant thing, how much I eat. If I don't try and take it for myself now, I'll never be allowed to have it._

She thought of her friends, and tried to keep the waver out of her voice. "I can't eat anymore."

Ulquiorra was either oblivious to her valiant struggle, or ignored it. "It is your duty to preserve your life until Aizen-sama calls for you. Eat, woman."

She could almost hear Tatsuki's voice urging her on. She could picture how Kurosaki would not give up_. _"I-I've eaten more than enough to…to preserve my health."

"Shall I force it down your throat? Do you want me to tie you down and finish giving you your nutrition intravenously?" He was so calm, so serious, that she knew they weren't rhetorical questions.

"Is that why you're here?" She asked, staring at the offensive food and not his cold, empty eyes. Though usually finishing more than half, she hadn't fully eaten any of her meals. "Because I haven't been finishing the food?" She couldn't say what had made her ask it in the face of his threat, but it seemed like such over-kill, sending Ulquiorra to make her clean her plate. _Finish your vegetables, or the scary empty arrancar will come get you. _If she had been alone, she would have giggled at the thought. But his mere presence was enough to suck the hilarity out of the idea.

He was silent for a long few minutes, and when she chanced to look up she could see there had been a change in his gaze. Where it once was inscrutable as a steel wall, she could see the wheels turning in his mind. _What is the most expedient way to make her finish her meal?_

"Aizen-sama requires you to assist in the research being performed by the Octava Espada, Szayel Granz," he said. Apparently he had decided force-feeding was not expedient. She was almost relieved until she heard what came next. "Your assistance will be in the form of surrendering blood for his study."

"B-blood?!" she blurted.

"This meal has been selected with the nutritional content needed to prepare you for the task."

"B-but—"

"You will eat all that has been provided for you, and preserve your health in order to make yourself useful for Aizen-sama," he continued. "In both body and mind you are already his subject. That's what your wearing of those clothes means."

She looked down at her traitorous clothes. "…Yes, sir."

She could feel his green eyes burning a hole in her forehead. "Say it," he demanded. And for this first time, she thought she could feel some heat in his frosty voice. "For what purpose do your mind and body exist?"

Maybe she wasn't cut out for bravery, for she didn't know what action would serve courage more. To heatedly fly in the face of this creature's oppressive demands? To accept the consequences of the decisions and sacrifices she'd made? She didn't know. She wished Tatsuki or Ichigo were there to reveal the answer, but just as quickly took that wish back. _I'd rather they were safe at home. _"They exist for Aizen-sama, and for his will."

"Eat, woman."

With a shaking hand, she picked up the fork, and did.

*~*~*

_**Nights Since Orihime's Disappearance: 3 / Soul Society**_

Renji pushed the conversation he'd had with Rukia as far from his mind as he could. He didn't want to think about it anymore, or the mish-mash of emotions that rose up when his thoughts strayed to it. Because in the end, it didn't matter what she had said, or what he had said, or what he didn't have the guts to say; the fact was, she was on a mission to Hueco Mundo and he was not.

_Get a fucking hold of yourself, Renji. You know damn well she's a Lieutenant level fighter—at least—and knows how to take care of herself._ _And it's not like she went alone._ He repeated it often, but that reassurance was of little comfort. Though his head knew she was a capable warrior, and that Chad, Ishida, and Ichigo would watch her back with everything they had, his heart knew that if it wasn't enough, he would blame himself forever for not ignoring her request to stay behind.

He shoved it all back down. When he was done with the mission, he would join up with them. He didn't know how yet, but that was irrelevant. He would _find_ a way to go to their side. For now, he had to focus on the briefing that he'd been given yesterday—_while they were leaving—_by Captain Kuchiki—_who kept me behind…Grraaagggh! Stop thinking about it! _He knocked his fist on his forehead for good measure, and vaguely hoped that no one could see him now and solidify the general conception that Abarai Renji was an idiot.

_Don't focus on her, focus on what she said about the mission,_ he told himself. _What's so special about it that _I_, specifically, have to be there?_ Rukia had made it plain that she thought Renji was essential to her brother's mission. He told himself that she must truly believe it to be so, or she wouldn't have asked him to stay. _She would have helped me sneak out._ But what value his presence had for the task was not apparent from the briefing his captain had given him last night.

_The head of the Norse pantheon has requested that Soul Society send an envoy to retrieve their chosen representative, _Kuchiki had said.

_Why? _he had asked. So far, they were the only ones to request an audience.

_Because their leader would meet with us before pledging a warrior to our cause, and he cannot travel here, _was the answer. Seemed simple enough—go to the realm, meet the boss of the pantheon, pick up the designated god, and go. But no matter how he turned it over in his mind, he still did not understand. He supposed it was appropriate to send a Captain to meet the head of a pantheon. He even saw the sense of sending two Shinigami together into foreign territory instead of one alone. But curse it all, why did it have to be them? Why did it have to be _him_? _It's not you, it's your damnable luck_, his mind said.

He let out a breath—possibly of frustration, possibly of resignation, but most likely both—and started his feet towards where he was to meet his Captain. He didn't understand it, and he sure as hell didn't like it, but he had promised Rukia that he would stay behind and complete this mission—and give it his all, if it came to that.

He looked upon the blank, inscrutable face of Kuchiki Byakuya, waiting for him at precisely the time and place he said he would, and forcibly reminded himself of that promise, trying to keep his resentment for the situation off of his face.

***~*~***

_**Nights Since Orihime's Disappearance: 3 / Karakura**_

The Seireitei certainly counted some unique characters in its number—Mayuri easily came to mind—but the man waiting at the meeting place carried a presence with him that was unlike anything Renji had felt anywhere in the two worlds he'd known.

The man's skin was so dark it was difficult to discern from the surrounding night. It blended smoothly with the jet-black suit that hung from his body, its long coat tails snapping behind him in the breeze. Renji would not have been able to see him at all in the darkness if his face wasn't in blunt contrast to the rest of his body—a bone-white skull grinning obscenely under a silk top hat. _Is that paint? Bone? _Renji shifted uncomfortably as he thought of how it resembled a hollow's mask.

_We can't open gates into other realms as removed from ours as these, _Captain Kuchiki had told him during yesterday's briefing. _Even opening the tear into Hueco Mundo isn't easy, and the reiatsu of that place is in tune with ours._

_Then how do we get to…uh…_

_Valhalla, _Kuchiki had said.

_Yeah, Valhalla. How we getting there?_

_We will be receiving the aid of the Lord of the Crossroads. _At the time, Renji had not understood the slight downward turn he observed at the corners of his Captain's mouth. He did now.

"Hey there, Soul Reapers!" he howled, voice full of laughter. "What be the good word?" The man's Japanese was strange, but functional.

"Baron Samedi,*" said Byakuya, bowing to the man in black. "I am Captain Kuchiki Byakuya. On behalf of my people, we are grateful for your assistance in this matter."

"Bend too low, you break in half," he chuckled. "It be my honor to help. Ain't nothing at all for the Lord of the Crossroads. Besides," he produced a lit cigar from thin air and took a long draw, "I been hearing from many mouths about Aizen Sosuke's climb up the ladder." The look the man suddenly turned on the Captain was hard, searching, and in contradiction to the light tone of his previous statements. "The dead 'round here been talking, Shinigami.* And they be scared."

The Baron paused and let his last comment settle in the silence. Something about it seemed to say, _You're not doing your job. _Sensing the strange note of challenge in the air, Renji shifted his stance and slid his eyes to his captain. Kuchiki, however, did not respond to it, in word or spiritual pressure. He simply met the man's gaze without speaking or looking away.

And then, just as suddenly as it'd come, the tension was gone. The Baron took another drag from the cigar, and the eyes peering out from the skull sockets leered at Byakuya in a way that Renji was sure the Captain found distasteful. "Them 'gami up in the Seireitei know what's good for 'em, sending a sword frigid as you to haggle with them north men." He laughed very deeply at his own joke. "Them warriors won't goad _you_ into no fight. No sir. They do better to chew a stone.

"But," he sidled up close to Renji, and hid his mouth behind his hand to say what came next, "maybe this Stone Captain here find a snow-queen in the hall, don't come back after all, hey?" He was not sure why the man had bothered to shield his mouth; he had spoken even louder so that Byakuya would be sure to hear. Renji smiled weakly out of politeness, aware that his Captain's carefully blank face meant that he was silently enduring something he considered an indignity.

The Baron was now nudging Renji in the ribs. "Boy, I tell you something. The women they got up there…" he made a few gestures with his hands to describe what he thought of the women they had up there. Renji could not stop the slight widening of his eyes—though he himself couldn't say if it was a reaction to the description or the indecent gestures themselves.

Renji shook his head, and said the only thing he could think of to say, "Promises, promises." The Baron laughed raucously and slapped him on the back.

"This one," said the Baron to Kuchiki while wiping the corners of his eyes. "You keep this one, Byakuya. Keep your squad lively. Some blood in its veins!"

"Quite," said the Captain, his face unreadable.

Baron Samedi tipped his hat to the side, and suddenly he was all business. "There be a couple a things you need to know about before you start into that land of ice and snow." His white teeth gleamed in his face as is spoke, flashes of light in the darkness. "You can't use shunpo on the Rainbow Bridge.* They sending horses for you to ride so that you don't have to walk."

"Why can't we use shunpo?" asked Renji. "Isn't the bridge, by definition, not part of the realm yet? I mean, the side effects shouldn't be too strong there, right?" He had been warned that he might experience discomfort in the other world, but with the disclaimer that it shouldn't be too great unless he released his zanpakuto.

"The Bifrost Bridge ain't part of the realm, but it might as well be, thanks to the spirit pressure their guardian at the gates piles onto it with his gaze. It'd be just like you there already."

As far as Renji was concerned, this asked more questions than it clarified. It was Kuchiki that answered his quirked eyebrows. "The entrance to their realm in guarded by a god named Heimdall.* He has very acute senses."

"He can hear the grass grow, and the leaves fall. He can see to the end of the world," provided Samedi.

"He is constantly monitoring the bridge, and the spiritual pressure of this scrutiny is formidable even though it is in a transitional area of the realm."

Renji let out a breath. "So, horses," he said without relish. Renji hated horses.

"They be waiting on the other side as soon as I open the rift," nodded Samedi. "And when you get to the end, they give you additional supplies."

The Baron took one final pull from the cigar, then made a motion and it was simply _gone. _"Now," he said, cracking his knuckles, "lets get to business. I'll open the door on this side. The north god with you will open it coming back. I be waiting for you here, with the others. All five of you can go back to Soul Society at the same time." Although travel to Soul Society was second nature for the Shinigami, they had asked the Baron to be on hand for transporting both Ma'at and the new arrival to the Seireitei. "Ready?"

"As I'll ever be," said Renji. Kuchiki only nodded.

Samedi's laugh sounded like the cackling of a crow as he produced a pair of dark glasses and slapped them on his face. He walked a short distance to where two dirt paths of the park they were standing in intersected. Facing them, he began rubbing his hands together rapidly, as if trying to warm them up. When he broke them apart, a band of bright light stretched between them, like a cat's cradle. "Step up, step up!" he called. "Last train of the day coming down the tracks!" He bent down and hooked one foot through the light, and when he stood up a portal opened in front of him seven feet tall and five feet across.

"Good luck, Shinigami!" the Baron said from somewhere behind the door. "Tell them snow maidens that Samedi sends his regards!"

His suggestive laughter followed them through the portal.

*~*~*

_**Nights Since Orihime's Disappearance: 3 / Bifrost Bridge**_

The first thing Renji noticed was the shimmering colors of light beneath his feet. It seemed odd, somehow, that the gateway to a pantheon strongly associated with war and ice would be so…colorful. The second thing he noticed were the enormous horses swishing their tails about twenty feet to his right, one black as night, the other white speckled with grey. _Not just horses, but war horses. Great._ They were too large to be anything else, unless they had saddled sleigh horses for a joke.

Kuchiki had already made his way to the black horse and detached what looked like a water skin from its side. _Well, I guess the other one's mine._ Grudgingly, he walked to the grey and swung into the saddle.

Renji was naturally a tall man. But from this high up, Kuchiki almost looked diminutive where he stood quaffing water. Renji frowned at his own water skin, not thirsty. _Maybe now's the time to ask some questions, while we're alone._

"I've been wondering something," began Renji.

"Oh?" said Kuchiki, retying the skin to the saddle.

"Why us?"

"To what do you refer?" Kuchiki grabbed his horse's mane and swung into the saddle. It was a quick and simple motion, but something about it looked slightly awkward. _I guess nobles in Soul Society aren't equestrians. _It's not like there were a lot of horses in Soul Society, anyway. Their horses began a fast trot down the bridge, without the benefit of direction. _I guess they know where to go._

"I mean, I get why they had to send a captain on this mission, but why us? Why not Captain Zaraki?"It seemed to Renji that Zaraki would have _loved_ to go on this mission. The opportunity to cross blades with a pantheon full of warrior gods seemed like something he would have hacked his way through quite a lot of people to get at, if he could.

"The very reason you think it would be a good match is exactly why it would be a poor choice." Fortunately, this was not one of the times his captain decided to leave his remarks cryptic. "Baron Samedi was correct in his assessment of me. No matter who we may encounter, it is unlikely I will involve myself in a fight."

_Assessment,_ thought Renji. "You expect someone there to be hostile?"

"No. I expect them to be proud warriors who like engaging in trials of combat, like Zaraki. I expect they would all get along famously in their common interests."

Renji was starting to get the idea. "You think that he would get all worked up and challenge them all to a fight."

The Captain simply raised one elegant eyebrow.

"Okay, _everybody knows_ that Captain Zaraki would do just that, but so what? I mean, all in good fun, right?" _Zaraki's definition of "good fun," anyway. _"I mean, they wouldn't kill each other," he said, though he wasn't certain himself.

"We do not know how quickly Aizen's forces are assembling, and we do not have time for such nonsense. Zaraki would expend considerable effort and energy on such a pursuit, possibly injuring himself in the process. Soul Society needs all of its captains whole and in top condition in the coming weeks."

Renji saw. "Earlier, that strange energy in the air. The Baron was trying to see if he could get a rise out of you."

Kuchiki nodded. "Baron Samedi is infamous for teasing and innuendo, but he is rarely genuinely insulting. He was checking to see if I was an appropriate choice for this task." Kuchiki untied the skin and took another drink. "His worry was unnecessary."

Renji frowned, and struggled to keep from bouncing in the seat. He supposed that explained why Kuchiki was an important piece, but not himself. He supposed it was just his duty as Kuchiki's Lieutenant.

Though his rank an undeniable source of pride, he still cursed his luck. The promotion he had garnered to get closer to Rukia was keeping them apart—and at the worst possible time.

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_Author's Note 2:_ So I managed to write a chapter in which neither Tatsuki or Ichigo show up directly. Go figure. Ichigo and company will explore Duat next chapter, and Tatsuki will dominate the entire chapter after that.

A couple of points I found myself wanting to make while writing this chapter: I'll be exploring a bunch of different parings over the course of this story, but I won't be pairing any Bleach characters off with deities from other realms. The Bleach universe already has so many rich, intertwining relationships that I rather play around with those than insert new ones. Friendships, flirting, sure, but no finding one's true love in another realm. That being said, don't read too much into any teasing remarks Baron Samedi makes. He'll make a lot of them. See his mythology note to understand.

Danke, merci, and gracias to InfiniteDragon, megrim, lupina24, dragonlayer, Delphine Pryde, Nameless Flame Wielder, Veggiemite, red lilies, Tango Dancer, Kelster Lynn, Sironblood1, and Nachtweiss for their reviews. All your kinds words made me blush so hard I decided to give _everyone_ the internets. I meant to do review responses last week, but got caught up. Hopefully I'll get to it this evening.

As always, constructive criticism is welcomed and embraced, and reviews in general totally make me write faster.

Edit: Thanks to Kelster Lynn for pointing out it's ZARAKI and not ZAKARI. I clearly remember googling it to make sure I spelled it right, and I STILL reversed the letters. I guess I secretly want the "k" to come before "r" for some sinister purpose even my subconscious doesn't fully understand. Thanks Kelster Lynn!

Next time: A cat goddess shows our heroes around Duat, and our other travelers learn to appreciate fur cloaks.

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_Mythology Notes (and some general notes in there too):_

**Robert Johnson:** I chose this song for the header ultra-special. Robert Johnson (1911-1938) was an incredibly (and some say supernaturally) talented delta blues musician—probably one of the most famous to have ever lived. It is said he claimed to have traveled to a crossroads near his home in Mississippi and sold his soul to the devil in exchange for mastery over music and the guitar—and no one was ever certain if he was joking, or meant it seriously. Tommy Johnson in _O Brother Where Art Thou? _and Mashed Potatoes Johnson in the _Metalocalypse _episode _Bluesklok _are both based directly off of Robert Johnson.

**Minced meat and potatoes: **She's eating corned beef hash, and hasn't ever seen it before. It's high in protein, iron, and starch. Between everything they're feeding her, her breakfast is very high in protein, iron, vitamin C, and liquid volume—a good meal to eat in preparation for replacing a large quantity of blood.

**Baron Samedi/Lord of the Crossroads:** In Vodou (Voodoo, Vodoun) Baron Samedi is the head of the Ghede loa, the spirits associated with death and fertility. He is well known for telling filthy jokes, smoking cigars, drinking rum, and wearing a dark suit, dark glasses, and a top hat. He waits at the crossroads between life and death to usher the dead on to the afterlife, and no one can cross without his permission. He is also known as Papa Ghede (though some consider them separate entities, many others consider Papa Ghede to be the "good" face of Baron Samedi). Although crass, enamored of women, and constantly teasing with innuendo, it is said he will not take a soul before its time and particularly dislikes taking children. If you have a sick child and things look bad, a practitioner of Vodou might pray to Samedi/Papa Ghede and ask him not to let them through the gate, because if he doesn't take them they won't die.

**Talking to the dead: **Baron Samedi/Papa Ghede has the ability to know what is happening and being said at all times in the lands of the living and the dead. For example, one might ask him about how a deceased relative is fairing in the afterlife, and vice versa. For the purposes of this story, Samedi knows what is happening to the mortals in _all_ the realms—but only to the mortals, not the gods, even if the gods were previously mortal. For example, he could tell you how Chad's parakeet friend is fairing, but he couldn't tell you what Ukitake is up to.

**Rainbow Bridge: **The Bifrost Bridge, which connects Asgard (one of the nine worlds, and the realm of the Norse gods—more on this later) to Midgard (Earth). The Bifrost Bridge is visible as Aurora Borealis, or the Northern Lights, which appear as a shimmering rainbow of colors in the sky—hence its nickname, the Rainbow Bridge.

**Heimdall: **In the Norse pantheon, Heimdall is the guardian of the gods in general, and of the Bifrost Bridge in particular. With his amazingly acute senses (the most acute of the pantheon) he is constantly on the lookout for the signal that Ragnarok has begun. When it does, he will sound his horn, Gjallarhorn, warning the other gods and commencing the battle. Until then, he remains vigilant.


	7. Hammer of the Gods

_Disclaimer:_ I do not own any of the characters in the following work. All recognizable anime characters belong to Tite Kubo. All others characters are adapted from a diverse spread of cultural and mythological lore. I am making no profit from this story.

_Author's Note 1:_ My deepest apologies on the lateness of this chapter. In the last month and a half, I've been on two road trips, two domestic plane trips, and two sets of international flights. As a result, this chapter has been written little-bits at a time, in bus stations, train depots, and airports, when I had over-night layovers and couldn't sleep because I had nowhere to put my valuables, etc. Finally, _finally_ it's finished, and I'm very happy to share it with you at long last!

Also, there's lots of cursing in this chapter. You have been warned.

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**Chapter 7: Hammer of the Gods**

_Hammer of the Gods,_

_We'll drive our ships to new lands_

_To fight the hordes, singing and crying:_

"_Valhalla I am coming!"_

-The Immigrant Song

by Led Zepplin

**

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_**Nights Since Orihime's Disappearance: 3 / Asgard**_

For a person who hated riding horses as much as Renji did, it took an interminable amount of time to cross the shimmery colors of the bridge and finally step through the misty curtain that hid Asgard* from sight. And if the sharpening clarity of the landscape hadn't announced their arrival, the sudden drop in temperature certainly would have. Renji felt his skin prickle into goose bumps, but mastered the urge to rub his arms. _Don't want the natives to think I can't take the cold. _

Though the god on guard—_Heimdall, Captain Kuchiki had called him—_was obscured from his sight until the very last of the mist was cleared, Renji wasn't surprised in the least to see him standing just to the right of their entry point; he had felt the steady increase of spirit pressure against his temples all the way down the bridge, until the air felt thicker than water. What he was not expecting was for the man to be so very _tall_. Sitting high in the saddle, Renji barely reached the level of Heimdall's shoulders. Though he longed to be off is horse, he had no desire to stand next to the man without the mount. Feeling dwarfed was something Renji had left behind with childhood.

For his part, Heimdall nodded to them as they passed by, but did not shift his gaze or speak. Renji chose not to be offended. After all, letting gods from other pantheons pass into your territory unchallenged could hardly be considered ignoring them. _Obviously he was expecting us. _Still, the lack of a more formal greeting was a bit disconcerting.

When the horses had taken them about 20 yards past the guard, a deep voice from somewhere to their left boomed in halting Japanese. "Pardon…Heimdall. He…must watch…more now. With the…events."

This man was tall as well, but not nearly as enormous as Heimdall. _He's probably about my height, if I were to stand on the ground. Are they all this huge? _Dark blonde hair fell in waves from beneath a steel helm that obscured the top half of his face. A dark fur cloak hung from wide shoulders over a rough-spun tunic. Even in the biting cold, his arms were bare. If this bothered him he did not show it.

With no horse in sight, he walked towards Captain Kuchiki's mount carrying heavy-looking saddle bags and speaking a steady flow of words in a rough, guttural-sounding language. _Old Norse_, thought Renji as Kuchiki responded in kind. Though he had learned smatterings of many languages at the Shinigami Academy, Old Norse being one of them, he couldn't follow any of what was passed between the two men. Even without understanding it, Renji was transfixed by the conversation. _Listening to the Captain speak this language is surreal. _He seemed fluent, but its roughness was at odds with the elegance he seemed to display at the core of his being. It was like watching a dog walk on its hind legs. _Except the dog doesn't look ridiculous because it has more dignity than you, and knows it._ Captain Komamura suddenly came to mind, and Renji decided to give up on the entire line of thought.

As he watched, Kuchiki gestured in his direction, and he could hear his name within the stream of words. The man stepped around Byakuya's horse and to Renji's side. "Is…an honor…to…meechu, Abarai. I called Tyr."* Instead of bowing, he stuck out his hand. His _left_ hand, which made Renji hurriedly withdraw the right hand he'd been reaching forward and exchange it for its pair. His wrist was grasped in a grip so strong that Renji imagined the man must crush rocks in his fist for fun on the weekends.

He didn't remember much Old Norse, but he thought he could manage to return the greeting. _It is an honor to meet you as well._

Tyr released his wrist and laughed loudly, from deep in his gut. Over his shoulder, he rattled off a few sentences at Kuchiki, none of which Renji could decipher. He might have imagined it, but the corner of the Captain's mouth seem to twitch up into something like a smile. A smirk, at least. _It looks kind of weird on his face._ Kuchiki made a brief reply, equally incomprehensible, and Tyr reached down to open the saddle bags he had dropped on the ground when he had greeted them.

It was at this moment that Renji realized the man had no right hand. Where his right wrist should have ended in a palm and the associated fingers was a stump wound tightly in leather straps, which he was using to prop the bags open while he rummaged inside. _I guess that's why he stuck out the left one earlier. At least he's probably used to people awkwardly shaking his hand._

While Tyr dug in the bags, Kuchiki turned to him and said, "You just informed him that you also thought it was a good night to hunt meat. Though he understood your intent, he agreed with your statement on principle, and said that if you are ever again in Asgard, he would be pleased to take you wolf hunting. It seems he has a history with them." He looked pointedly at the leather-bound stump. "Regardless, I told him that now, unfortunately, is not the ideal time for my Lieutenant to be devoured by wolves."

Renji grimaced—both for the comment and his poor lingual skills. "Couldn't agree more."

The god pulled a thick fur cloak from the bag and handed it up to Kuchiki, who immediately swung it over his shoulders in one graceful sweep. He tossed a second to Renji. _With all the giants they have here, at least I know it will fit._ He swung it on and was gratified to see that if anything, it was a little big. The bite of the cold northern wind was immediately replaced with an enveloping warmth. "Wolf skins?" he asked, only half joking.

Tyr shook his head, amused. "Bear." He put his one good hand up as if mimicking the forepaw of a rearing bear. "I kill." Renji looked down at the cloak, which he could now clearly see was made from one enormous animal. _I'll have to remember to pass on that invitation to go hunting._

The god passed a few more things to Kuchiki, including a new water skin—_His is empty already?—_which he traded for the old, and a small wooden box, which the two men seemed to be having a very serious discussion about. When they were finished, Tyr shouldered the bags and pointed in the direction of some rising foothills in the distance. He couldn't make out much of their exchange, but he definitely heard the word "Valhalla."

His directions given, the god raised his hand in farewell. "Fight…bravely, Kuchiki, Abarai." As he strode off the way he had come from, their horses turned themselves in the direction he had pointed and started for the foothills.

_Odd that he didn't accompany us. _"What was that all about?"

Kuchiki sent him a look that might have been a glare. "Tyr is the warrior god among these warrior gods. He was sent to welcome us to their realm."

"I caught that. But…is it really okay for us not to have an escort?"

"Do not equate the customs of our culture with another. Escorting us would have suggested a deficiency on our part—either that we are incapable of following his directions to reach it on or own, or that we are particularly untrustworthy and must be supervised within their realm. Allowing us to travel the short distance of our own accord, at our own pace, is considered a great honor."

Renji tried to follow that thread of logic, but ended up with it tied in a knot. _I get that the "proud warrior people" letting us roam around unchallenged shows some confidence in us. But doesn't it also show a disdain for our abilities? Like, we couldn't be a threat if we tried?_ His suspicion that much more was going on here than Kuchiki let on was growing.

His brows drew together as the Captain uncorked the new skin and took a drink. _Why is he so thirsty? _Perhaps Kuchiki knew something about water in this world that he did not. _Not like he'd tell me if he did._

He reached down and untied his own skin from the saddle. _I guess I don't want to be dehydrated. _Turning it up in his hands, he took a gulp…

…and nearly coughed up a lung.

"Haarack! Koff!" He tried as best he could to suck in a deep breath. "What the fuck _is_ this shit?!" He had been expecting water, but the liquid that hit his tongue was thick with a cloying sweetness and a sour aftertaste.

"It is called mead,*" said Byakuya, taking another drink from his skin. "It is a type of alcohol made from honey. Do not insult it so loudly while we are in Asgard. It is the chosen drink of the gods of the Norse pantheon."

Renji gave Kuchiki a look of disbelief. _He's telling me that he's been chugging down some type of ale this whole time? _"I thought it was water." Somehow he was able to make this sound like both a question and accusation. Neither was addressed by his Captain, who kept his eyes forward, his face blank.

When Byakuya did not respond, Renji kept prodding for an explanation. "I mean, you were drinking so _much_ of it." Byakuya clenched the reigns of his horse in a white-knuckled grip, but still he was met with silence.

Renji could feel his anger at being ignored rising to the surface, and only just managed to wrestle it under control. Unbidden, Rukia's words from earlier echoed in his head. "_I don't know why, and we both know he'll probably never say, but my brother needs you for this mission. _He wondered, not for the first time, how she came to this conclusion. Anyway, it wasn't that or any of the other sentences that she had spoken during that conversation that had convinced him. It was, _Please, Renji, for me. _She had not _actually _ended it with, "for me," and he couldn't be sure whether it had been implied or not. But Renji liked to think it was, and that's how he remembered it.

Because since he couldn't fail her (_not again_), it made the part of him furious at being kept behind and kept in the dark easier to squish down to the corners of his heart. There in those spaces, even if he could still feel it, at least he wouldn't act on it.

_That's right, Abarai, always pushing it down and stayin' quiet. Always running the race only to turn chicken-shit when you see the finish line._ He thought about that for a second, and blinked with a sudden, painfully-obvious realization. _He isn't telling me because I haven't actually asked. I've only made statements._ _Renji, you damn coward. If you want the answer, ask the damn question. _

"Why did you bring me here?" He had planned on asking about the alcohol. But in truth, that wasn't really what he wanted to know, and his mouth circumvented his brain. He'd asked, 'Why us?' earlier, and he'dgotten an answer. But the Captain had only told him why _Kuchiki_ had to travel to this place, but not why _he_ was here, despite having another place to be.

Byakuya's eyes slid to him, though his head didn't turn. After a brief pause, he said, "During the briefing, you were told that it is difficult for gods to travel into spirit realms with discordant reiatsu. I daresay you feel the pressure of the reiatsu rejection even now against your skin, your eyes. It is no doubt uncomfortable, but you are able to function. You could even draw your sword, and fight with it, though in their realm the Æsir* would defeat you in open combat with ease. As long as you do not release your zanpaktou, you are able-bodied in this realm.

"What you do not know is that there is a significant spike in the incompatibility of one's reiatsu in other realms as your power increases. For beings of mid-Captain level, any functions beyond the most basic movements are nearly impossible. Even walking is strenuous."

Renji actually had to remind himself to close his mouth, because it was hanging open. "Are you saying…are you telling me…" _that right now, I'm stronger than you?_

Kuchiki didn't answer the half-question. He didn't have to. "It was a great honor for Tyr to come and welcome us, but his continued presence would have been overwhelming—and we must yet have the energy to stand in the All-Father's presence."

"Then the horses…the real reason for the horses…"

"Are to conserve the energy I might have expended walking."

"And the mead- "

"Is the chosen drink of the gods of this pantheon. It resonates with reiatsu of this realm. When a god of a foreign realm ingests it, it dulls the side-effects. However, it has its own set of hazards. The more one drinks of it, the less your reiatsu resonates with your _own_ realm. Thus, the weaker you are when you return there. Fortunately, this deficiency is only temporary. It is when it is eaten in concentrated quantities that it is most dangerous—in those instances, it may keep you bound to the spirit realm you ingested it in _permanently.*_

"Further, it is alcoholic, and has the associated detractors as well."

Renji blinked. _Is he trying to tell me that he's…buzzed? Will be buzzed?_ Renji looked back in time two days, and decided his past self would have laughed in the face of his present self if he had tried to tell past-Renji that he would be having this conversation.

He tried his best to piece together what the Captain had told him into an answer for his question. "So, _I'm_ here, because with you…" _weak, drunk_, "…with those issues you just mentioned, I would have to defend us if things turned ugly here."

"Do not be ridiculous. Neither of us would survive an attack by the Æsir while we're in Asgard. Your responsibility, should that unlikely scenario occur, would be to escape this realm and report to Soul Society that Asgard has fallen in league with Aizen."

"I understand," said Renji, and let the conversation die. He didn't need the Captain to confirm the rest, and suspected it had taken a huge chunk of his pride to say what he already had. Rukia had been right. Rather, she had been right about the Captain needing _someone_ to assist him—with a dire mission and in a weakened state to boot.

And he had _chosen_ Renji for the task.

_Holy fucking crap. He actually _trusts _me. He trusts me to see him and travel with him while he's weak. _Renji wondered if the winter war would commence faster now that Hell had frozen over.

***~*~***

_**Nights Since Orihime's Disappearance: 3 / Duat**_

The woman that showed up at the entrance to their room was both everything and nothing like the feline that had brought them to it the night before. When a black cat the size of a panther had prowled over to them from across the stone hallway, it was only its size that kept Ichigo from bursting out with an accusing "Yoruichi!" like an idiot.

He was glad he held his tongue; the voice that came out of the feline was deep like cat-Yoruichi's, but decidedly more feminine. After identifying herself as Bast,* she had taken them to a single room where they would be given a chance to eat (_Do not worry yourselves over _this_ food, young ones_) and rest.

_We will have separate rooms for you tomorrow, _the cat had said. _Urahara couldn't give us a definitive number on how many were coming, and we thought you like to stick together for the first evening, anyway. Rest now. We have much to accomplish in the morning._

The morning had arrived, and the woman standing before them was like a slightly more muscular and less clothed version of Ma'at. Unlike Yoruichi, this woman's voice matched her cat counterpart, and it slid out of her throat like water out of dark glass. "Good morning young ones. I hope that breakfast was satisfactory."

About an hour before her arrival (_One hour, two? It's impossible to tell in this place) _servants had come with trays of unfamiliar but perfectly palatable food. If Ichigo had any appetite, it probably would have been delicious. But the thought of the struggle they were facing made it hard enough to just force the food down his throat and swallow, let alone taste it.

"It was of excellent quality, " said Rukia, next to him in the doorway. "We appreciate your hospitality."

"Think nothing of it. We are pleased to be able to help you retrieve your friend, since the rest of us cannot help you fight your war. Are you all ready to leave?"

"Leave?" asked Ichigo. Though he knew—had been clearly told—that they wouldn't be able to cross Underworlds for three more nights, part of his stomach leaped into his throat at the word. He smashed it back down, too late to keep the disappointment entirely at bay.

"Are we going to begin the training Ma'at spoke of?" asked Ishida.

Bast smiled, and Ichigo couldn't help but notice her canines seemed rather long for her otherwise normal set of teeth. "Although I am pleased at your eagerness, we will not begin your training until tomorrow at first light. Today you will have lessons instead."

"Lessons?" asked Chad.

"Urahara asked that we educate you on the way that Death works. He said he did not have time to instruct you properly."

"The way death works?" asked Ichigo. He slid his eyes to Rukia, only to find her returning his confused glance. "But we—"

She laughed brightly. "Yes, yes. 'But you are Shinigami.' You know Death, but only for yours."

Ichigo fervently hoped that all of the gods they would meet on this journey would not talk in riddles.

"What do you mean 'ours?'" asked Rukia.

"Those who have placed themselves in the care of your pantheon, of course. Those that you guide to the next plane or realm. _Yours._" The way she said the word made something tingle at the back of Ichigo's neck. In his periphery he saw Rukia shiver, and knew the others had felt it too. Though it was by nature a possessive word, it did not bear the territorial claim of property or chattel when it passed her lips. Rather, she used it in the sense that a name was yours or a friend was yours; a significant, deeply-held association without ownership.

"You, Kuchiki-san, are the oldest here, and yet even you are not old enough and high ranking enough to understand the intricacies of Death beyond that of your own pantheon. You will need to know these secrets and more if you are to travel the realms."

_So this is what Urahara meant when he said knowledge was power. I wonder if he was just being lazy and passed the task off. _"Urahara asked you to teach this to us?" asked Ichigo, without the snide attitude that thinking of the shop keeper made him want to adopt.

"He left it in our care," she confirmed. "It is time we were on our way. Your teacher is waiting," She turned from them and began down the sand-strewn corridor, walking deceptively fast for a gait that seemed non-chalant.

As they walked, he tried to take in the surroundings. Unfortunately, there wasn't much to see as they made turn after turn through relatively narrow corridors: walls covered in indecipherable hieroglyphs, torches illuminating only small sections of the stone. He looked ahead, at Bast moving in perfect silence in front of them, and was again struck by the similarities between her and Yoruichi—most particularly in the way they moved. Unlike so many of the fighters he knew, who held their bodies in coiled tension just waiting to spring, both women held their muscles perfectly relaxed when not in use. Though Ichigo knew perfectly well their reaction time would be even faster, their strikes even harder to judge, the relaxed body language lulled an opponent into a false sense of security. It also put a distinct swagger-like roll to their hips, and it occurred to Ichigo that Grimmjow moved in a somewhat similar fashion. _Hmm…I wonder what the connection is._

Ichigo was about to make a comment about this to Rukia, who was walking beside him, but when he turned her direction he found her scowling at him. "Wha—"

He never did finish, seeing as her elbow crashed into his ribs.

"..the hell?! How many times do I have to tell you not to go hitting people for no reason!" he yelled, grabbing his side. With the hall so narrow, his protest bounced off the walls and assaulted his ears. _Note to self: do not yell at the top of your voice in an enclosed space the next time a hysterical broad hits you in the ribs._ He felt this advice would certainly come in handy in the future, considering the number of girls he knew that were prone to violence, and how rarely he understood what was going through their minds. _Forget Hueco Mundo, between Rukia and Tatsuki I'll die before I turn 18. _

The rest of the group ignored the outburst, and the narrow stone corridor abruptly widened into a vast hall. Though the walls stretched out of sight on either side, stone pillars rose up along a narrow strip of floor, herding the group down an aisle. Besides the pillars there were only two things of note in the room, and they both lay at the end of the path.

The first was a beautifully wrought scale, the supports and balance trays all crafted out of gleaming gold. Even at this distance Ichigo could appreciate the craftsmanship. The second was the throne about ten yards behind the scales, complete with an imposing-looking man seated on it.

"Bast-sama," said Rukia before they got close enough to be heard, "who are you taking us to?"

"Who better to teach you than the Lord of the Afterlife?" She gestured to the throne facing the scales. "I am taking you to Osiris."

***~*~***

_**Nights Since Orihime's Disappearance: 3 / Valhalla (in Asgard)**_

The hall was a vast building, its very essence warfare. One could not conclude anything else when laying eyes upon it. _The roof is thatched with spears and shields. They must take this warrior thing _very_ seriously._

"We will leave the horses here," said Kuchiki.

_Thank everything that was ever divine,_ thought Renji as he swung down from the animal.

They approached the enormous entrance, which was flanked by a couple of armor- and fur-clad men. Their spirit pressure was not nearly the crushing weight that Heimdall and Tyr had displayed. _Dead warriors?_ Renji knew Valhalla* was a hall for the dead, but was rather rusty on the intricacies of the pantheon. With a silent nod, they swung the immense doors outward and motioned for them to enter.

If the outside was impressive, it was _nothing_ compared to the sight that awaited them inside. A wall of noise crashed into them when the doors were open, revealing an aisle flanked on either side with a teaming mass of humanity. Or at least, they had been human. Renji wasn't sure if they were still considered such now that they had earned their place in the hall. _Einherjar.* _The word returned to him from the depths of his Academy education. _They call them Einherjar._

His eyes swept around to take it all in. At least, as much as he could. Thousands of Einherjar were at benches for as far as one could see, eating, drinking, gambling, laughing. The majority were men, but a sizeable number of women were mixed in among the tables, laughing as loudly and drinking as heartily as the men. All were dressed as the guards he had seen out front, but he kept thinking he saw different clothing out of the corner of his eyes. Biker leathers. Camouflage. Denim. Even business suits, scrubs...Renji had known that the Norse pantheon was still collecting fighters, but he wondered how the criteria for identifying a warrior's soul must have changed over the millennia.

Beside him and a step ahead, Captain Kuchiki walked tall and proud. At least, that was how it would seem to a stranger. Renji could see the stiffness in his usually fluid movements, the miniscule indications his muscles gave that he was straining the closer they got to the throne at the end of the aisle. It looked like he was fighting every moment not to buckle over. Renji himself felt the pressure against his skin like the crushing weight of the sea. He could not even imagine how much worse it must be for the Captain.

The man on the throne was at least as tall as Zaraki, and even broader in the shoulder. Though he clearly had innumerable years etched into his features, his frame remained unbowed, and he sat on the throne like a man made for battle and not for sitting. He had but one eye that blazed a bright blue, yet it was the empty socket yawning on the right side of his face that drew Renji's attention.

[Hail, Lord Odin,*] said Byakuya in the heavy Norse dialect. [I…Kuchiki Byakuya, the…and my Lieutenant, Abarai Renji, have come… request your… struggle.] Even though he didn't really understand the majority of what was said, Renji was impressed at Kuchiki's ability to make his tone sound respectful and assertive at the same time. While he spoke, Renji kept his eyes peeled and watchful of the two enormous wolves that lounged at the base of the throne.*_ Maybe the whole 'devoured by wolves' thing wasn't all idle talk. _Since they didn't really seem interested in him, he shifted his attention back to the conversation at hand.

"Well met, Soul Reapers," said the man in perfect Japanese. "I am Odin, All-Father, leader of the Norse pantheon. I welcome you to my hall. Valhalla is honored by your presence." He motioned with one hand, and a tall, pale woman stepped forward with a silver pitcher. She handed each of them a drinking cup that had been fashioned out of horn and silver, then filled the vessels with what Renji presumed was more mead. Kuchiki immediately took a sip.

"Moreover, I am pleased that you have come here, Captain Kuchiki," said the grizzled man. "Although we are committed to fulfilling the oath, I will not put the strength of my warriors under the command of anyone I haven't looked in the eye. I am well aware of the hardships you had to endure to arrive here. Your actions speak highly of you."

Renji wondered if Odin was including Baron Samedi's teasing under "hardships." He probably was.

"Allow me to be blunt," the god continued. "I cannot commit our strongest to your cause. Though Tyr and Thor and Freyja are only a few of the warriors we have eager to help wage your war, they must remain here, prepared in the event that Ragnarok begins. They would not be able to pass into your world in any regard, and I understood from the message that you are desirous of a warrior that can lend their expertise in Soul Society for at least a moon before the true outbreak of battle." He looked to the Captain for a confirmation, which was met with a nod. "To answer that need, I will send with you the strongest warrior that you can accommodate. In addition, I understand that there is concern for the protection of Midgard* when the battle-proper erupts. For this front, I will provide you with a host of Einherjar, to be summoned when the battle commences."

Captain Kuchiki bowed at the waist, and said something in Norse that Renji assumed was a formal statement of thanks.

"And one more thing," Odin continued. He shifted his shoulders, and a pair of ravens* perched on the back of the throne hopped and squawked at the movement. "The warriors that I am sending to fight for you, _with_ you—I will have your word that you will lead them wisely. Each of one of them, from the most powerful on down, lived their mortal lives in a way that would earn them a place _here. _No, not in hall itself," he said when Renji looked around, "at my side. Valhalla is a waiting chamber. It is not an eternal resting place, it is the place we wait for Ragnarok. When the battle starts, every man and woman here has committed themselves to ride through those doors and fight until they are torn apart. They lived for this purpose. They _died_ for this purpose—to be deemed worthy to fight alongside their heroes and gods, and protect their world from the monsters of chaos.

"The warriors I am sending with you—who have chosen to help you—are risking the fate they worked hard to earn to possibly be obliterated in a foreign realm fighting foreign enemies. Whether you understand what is in their hearts or not, this sacrifice is an enormous one to ask of them, and should not be taken lightly by anyone given the responsibility of commanding them in the coming war."

Kuchiki took a step forward, even closer to the throne, and Renji could see the way the exponential increase in pressure made the Sixth Squad Captain's legs tremor slightly under its weight. Renji was pretty sure that the one piercing blue eye could see it too.

Where there would have been a deep bow if they were in Soul Society, Kuchiki stood as tall as he could, and fixed his eyes directly on the elder god's face. Renji would've given most of his teeth and a kidney to know what the Captain said next, but it was a jumble of rough sounds laced together with a tone of oath and absolute conviction. _I wonder if he switched to Norse specifically so I wouldn't hear it._

Odin's solitary eye practically burned in its socket as he watched Kuchiki speak. When he was finished, the god turned to the servant standing by with the pitcher. "Is the warrior ready?" She nodded in affirmation. "Excellent. Make the preparations." The woman bent her head in acknowledgement and moved from the hall.

"The good news, Shinigami," he said as she left, "is that while I can't send you our most powerful, we do not expect many of our pantheon's strongest enemies to flock to Aizen's court, either."

"Why's that?" Renji blurted out, before he could worry about speaking out of turn.

"Many of our greatest threats will not be strong enough to move until Ragnarok. We have already bound Fenrir,* at great cost,* and until he breaks free the most devastating agents—Loki and his children—will not dare make their move. For them to outrightly join Aizen now would either force Ragnarok into motion before they were at their peak of strength, or waste the strength they do have and make the wait for the Twilight even longer while they recover. It is my prediction that they will not see an opportunity in Aizen's war, only a false start.

"And anyway, by all reports Aizen is clever—clever enough to know that letting a trickster god like Loki in your inner-circle is dangerous. Even if he did come calling, Aizen would be wise to turn him away. No, it is not the powerful of our pantheon's enemies we should fear, but lesser creatures that might find his offer enticing and might in turn be found useful--the Jötnar* for a certainty, and possibly even some of the Svartalves.* These groups, and their numbers, are the ones we should concern ourselves with."

"We will remember this advice," said Kuchiki.

The god nodded. "Now that business is concluded, please help yourselves to our hospitality while preparations are made. When you have feasted, your new comrade will meet you where you left your horses. Travel well, Shinigami, and fight bravely. Hildegard." Another pale-skinned woman, this one with dark hair, led them to a table where men were eating meat and laughing loudly. There was space at the table, presumably for them to sit.

"Thanks," Renji said to the woman—_Hildegard—_as she refilled their drinking horns. Well, topped-off Renji's, anyway. _This mead stuff must really be an acquired taste_.

They spent the next hour drinking mead, eating joints of meat, and being slapped on the back _hard _by the warriors sitting at the table. At least, _Renji _was slapped on the back as he finished each round of drink. Kuchiki, though downing far more then him, was met with hearty applause only—the Einherjar realizing on their own that the Captain wouldn't appreciate such rough congratulations. _Someday_, Renji vowed to himself, _I will project the kind of aura that will make Vikings think twice before pounding me on the back._ His inner-self wished him good luck with that aspiration.

When they were finished, and had been seen off with loud wishes of good hunting shouted in Old Norse, they left the hall and moved towards the area where they had left the horses. On the approach, Renji saw the woman from the hall brushing down a large black stallion. She had sensibly changed from her white dress into leathers and boots for the task. Seeing his own horse standing nearby, he mentally grimaced, wishing that the riding part of the journey was already over.

As he and the Captain both started checking bindings, he thought about the Baron's request to tell women he'd said hello—and he purposefully wiped it from his mind. This woman looked muscled enough that if she punched him in the face, he'd lose teeth. _Best not get teeth knocked out on account of someone else's innuendo. _But conversation did seem polite, if she was taking care of preparations for the warrior that was to come with them. He decided to risk assuming she could speak Japanese.

"When will your death god be arriving?" he asked the servant.

Byakuya was off to his right, in the opposite direction from the woman. It was for this reason Renji didn't catch the sharp glance his Captain cast his way. He _did_ notice the slight narrowing of her eyes and the tightening of her grip upon the bindings of the saddle, but the meaning was lost. "Pardon?" The word sounded awkward with her thick accent.

_Maybe she doesn't speak Japanese that well? _"Uh, the guy who owns that horse," he said, pantomiming his words for her benefit, "when is he coming?" As he watched, her mouth compressed into a tight line and her brow furrowed.

He shifted his glance over to Kuchiki, and saw that he had erected his 'blank face,' but closed his eyes. Though silent, everything in his body language seemed to convey the word, "Idiot." It only lasted a second before he had reopened his eyes, looked at the woman, and rattled off a string of words that Renji couldn't understand.

The woman snorted in reply, and with a forceful gesture swung her leg up over the back of the horse and landed heavily in the saddle. It was only then that Renji realized his mistake. _Damn it Abarai, you really _are_ an idiot. _

From her seat high on the horse, she looked down at Renji with eyes that would have frozen ice. "I learned your language during the Second Great War."* The words were still thick and strange on her tongue, but this time around he could recognize that only part of what painted her words was accent. The other part was anger. Before he could even attempt an apology, she kicked her horse to a start and led it in the direction from which they had come.

Kuchiki began talking in his let-me-calmly-tell-you-why-you're-an-idiot voice. "That was Hraust, the highest ranking of Odin's formerly mortal Valkyries.* She is the one who will be traveling with us back to Soul Society as their representative to the Oath." He pulled himself onto his horse, and Renji was amazed that he was able to put just as much disdain into the gesture as Hraust had, though the reiatsu pressure and alcohol consumption made the movement much less fluid and graceful than it would otherwise have been.

As Kuchiki's horse turned to follow Hraust, Renji sighed and struggled into the saddle. He didn't need the extra height to see it would be a long trip back. He looked towards the shrinking figure of their new, angry traveling companion, and thought about what the Baron had told him. _Samedi, you liar._

**

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_Author's Note 2:_

To clarify, Renji's not actually being a sexist, though I'm sure Hraust thinks he is. After seeing her serving beverages in the hall, he filed her under "servant" in his mind. He didn't know that Valkyries are also cupbearers in Odin's Valhalla, in addition to their other, more well-known duties (see Valkyries below). So when he sees her again he applies this assumption and believes she's just gearing up the horse for a rider that will eventually arrive. If you think Renji can't catch a break now, wait until next chapter, when he meets Tatsuki. (You heard me!)

Tatsuki will be the star of the next chapter (at last!), though expect more from Duat and Hueco Mundo as well. I'm pretty excited about it—I've missed writing her, as I'm sure you all have missed her in the last few chapters.

Thank you, thank you, thank you to InfiniteDragon, Xoroth, rogue-angel82, Nachtweiss, Nameless Flame Wielder, Kelster Lynn, Veggiemite, Not_Bored_Anymore, red lilies, MiraResQNU for their much appreciated reviews on the last chapter. Seriously, all your kinds words are what makes it worth putting aside writing time when various gods know my schedule has been crazy. And thanks to _you_ for reading all of this.

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_Mythology Notes:_

Please be aware the following notes are a little out of order. I put them in the order they would make most sense if you read straight down the list.

**Nine Worlds: **The following notes will be easier to read (and for me to write) with a quick intro to the "Nine Worlds" of Norse Mythology. In no particular order: 1. Asgard: home of the Æsir (see below); 2. Alfheim: land of the light elves (think Legolas); 3. Muspellsheim: the land of fire; 4. Vanaheim: land of the Vanir (see Æsir below); 5. Midgard: Earth, where we live; 6. Jötunheim: land of the giants (see Jötunn below); 7. Niflheim: land of fog/mist, where Hel is (more on this later); 8. Nidavellir: land of the dwarves; 9. Svartalfaheim: land of the dark elves (see Svartalves below).

**Asgard: **See "Nine Worlds" above. Valhalla is one hall in Asgard.

**Tyr: **Tyr is the Norse god of war, justice, bravery, honor, sacrifice (for a cause), truth, and single-combat. While just about all Norse gods could be called gods of war (when you get right down to it), the essence of _combat_ are most directly associated with him. Also known as Tiw in other Germanic languages, Tyr is one of the four gods given homage to in our days of the week (Tyr/Tiw's Day = Tuesday, Odin/Wotan's Day= Wednesday, Thor's Day = Thursday, and Freya's Day = Friday). On a side note, Tyr is given very little physical description in the mythos (as in hair color, etc.) so I had a bit of free range in how he should look.

**Mead:** a type of alcohol made from honey. A favorite of the Vikings, northern Germanic peoples in general, and other related European cultures. (Personally, I think it's best when mulled with spices). Mead flows freely in Valhalla. It should be thought of as the "drink of the gods" for this pantheon.

**Æsir: **The Norse gods are actually split into two groups, the Æsir (including Odin, Thor, Tyr, Baldur, etc.) and the Vanir (including Freyja and her twin brother Freyr). Most of the well known gods are in the Æsir, and Freyja and Freyr kind of get adopted into them, so the Vanir don't really come up to much in pop-culture. For simplicity sake, when this story mentions Æsir, think of it as "gods of the Norse pantheon," including relevant Vanir.

**Foods of the Gods:** Remember the advice Urahara gave the crew a couple of chapters ago? Same deal. Be careful what you eat and drink the lands of the gods.

**Bast **(or **Bastet**)**: **Cat goddess of the Egyptian pantheon—a goddess of war and protection. Early depictions of her feature her as a lion (the war connotations being clear), and then later as a domestic cat—which were sacred because the exterminated rodents who spread disease, a form of protection. Bast is a warrior, but a warrior of a different stripe than the Norse gods or even the Shinigami, as it were. Hers is a strength of cunning and cleverness, a predator in every way that a feline is. Extra points to InfiniteDragon for recognizing her before I gave her name. In my story, I split the difference between a lion and a black house cat by having her appear as a black panther, but I suspect she'll show up as all three at some point or another.

**Odin:** The head of the Norse pantheon, also called All-Father. A god of wisdom, war, poetry, magic…the list goes on. To gain knowledge, Odin upside-down hung from a tree (the world tree, Yggdrasil) for nine days, stabbed himself in the side with a spear, and plucked out his right eye and dropped it into Mimir's Well. The eye is still there at the bottom of the well, seeing everything, and is only one of the avenues by which Odin wisdom constantly. Modern pictures of Odin often show him missing the left eye because of mirror-image confusion. When we look in a mirror, our right eye is on our right. But when we look at a photograph of ourselves, our right eye is on our left. (Seriously, check if you don't believe me). Artists draw the empty socket on _their _right, which is, in-fact, his left eye. Don't let this fool you. _His_ right eye is the one that's in the well.

**Einherjar: **see "Valkyrie" below.

**Midgard: **See "Nine Worlds" above. Every pantheon has its own name for the human world. Karakura could be said to be in Midgard.

**Wolves: ** Odin's two wolves, Freki (ravenous) and Geri (greedy).

**Ravens:** Odin's two ravens, Huginn (thought) and Muninn (memory). They take daily flights all over Midgard, and when they return to Asgard they tell Odin everything they have seen.

**Fenrir** (also **Fenris**)**: **One of Loki's three children, an enormous wolf. Ragnarok will begin when Fenrir _devours the sun, _at which point the shit hits the fan.

**Great cost: **This is the story of how Tyr lost his right hand. The gods knew that Fenrir was Bad News—after devouring the sun, he will eventually be the one to kill Odin. To stave off this destiny as long as possible, the gods plan to entrap Fenrir and tie him up. But even this early in the game, the wolf is too big to be brought down with force; they must trick him. They get a huge chain from the dwarves and bet him that he can't break it. Proud, he lets them tie him up, and breaks the chain easily. They get an even bigger, stronger chain, challenge him again, and once again he breaks it with ease. Finally they go to the Svartalves, who make a thin rope from things like the footfalls of cats and the tears of birds. Sensing trickery this time, Fenrir only allows them to tie him up if a god puts their hand in his mouth. If he can't break it, and they don't untie him, he will eat the hand. Knowing it will mean their hand, their _sword_ hand, only Tyr is brave enough to go through with it. The rope holds, Fenrir bites down, and Tyr becomes Tyr the One-Handed.

**Jötnar** (singular **Jötunn**)**:** Giants. In Norse mythology, giants were chaotic beings that are often on the opposite side of a conflict, fight, or challenge as the Æsir or Vanir. They're not really "evil," but they are generally destructive.

**Svartalves: **Literally "dark elves." There are two types of elves in Norse mythology. The "light elves," which were the inspiration for the pale, gold-haired creatures in the Lord of the Rings (think Legolas), and the Svartalves. Though some sources (like Wikipedia) say that Svartalves=Dwarves, since each of these races have their own realm, I think it's unlikely they're meant to be the same. In any case, Svartalves are skilled crafters of metal and jewelry, and made the thin magical rope that finally bound Fenrir.

**Valkyries: **The pyschopomps of the Norse pantheon. Also called, "Choosers of the Slain," their specific job is to pick from the dead those that they think would kick a lot of ass at Ragnarok, and bring them to Asgard. These selected warriors are called **Einherjar.** Half of those they pick go to Valhalla (Odin's Hall), the other half to Fólkvangr (Freyja's Hall). In the mythos, there were definitely Valkyries that were always demigods—that like the Æsir had never been mortal. However, depending on what you read, there are also tales about mortal women who—through sheer badassery—become Valkyries after death. For the purposes of this story, there are both immortal and mortal Valkyries in Asgard, the latter of which is less powerful. Odin is sending the strongest of the mortal Valkyries to Soul Society.

While the mythos of Valkyries in general is pretty well shaped, not much is known about individual Valkyries (except Brunhilde, but her story is so specific it makes her a bad fit for this story). Therefore, Hraust will be one of the death gods I have a little bit more artistic license with. I promise not to go too crazy with it.

**Valhalla:** Odin's hall in Asgard. This is where half the Einherjar go (the other half go to Freya's hall, Fólkvangr) to feast and in general make merry until it's time for Ragnarok. Don't get confused—it's not "Norse heaven," because you don't get there by being virtuous and you don't get to rest on your laurels when you get there. There are actually many different places that the dead can go under this pantheon, depending on how you lived and how you died, with a range of pleasantness. If you're in Valhalla, it means _specifically_ that you've been selected by the gods to help them fight the mother of all wars at the end of the world—and you think that's pretty damn awesome.

**Second Great War: **World War II. There's nothing like a war to bring death gods out of the woodwork, and nothing like a _world_ war to get gods from different lands and cultures to meet. As Japan was a major player in that conflict, Hraust learned the language while choosing slain in the Pacific Theater. She simply had no call to learn it before that. Incidentally, WWII is also when Byakuya learned several Pacific Island languages, but see if he ever uses them.


	8. A Little Less Conversation

_Disclaimer:_ I do not own any of the characters in the following work. All recognizable anime characters belong to Tite Kubo. All others characters are adapted from a diverse spread of cultural and mythological lore. I am making no profit from this story.

_Author's Note 1:_ The awaited return of Tatsuki! I know that she's been MIA for two whole chapters, but to make the story unfold as planned, other things had to happen first. I can't remember if I mentioned this before, but this is manga-based, so I'm not taking into account any events that may have happened in the fillers.

Also, there is cursing like woah in this chapter. You have been warned.

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**Chapter 8: A Little Less Conversation**

_A little less conversation, a little more action, please_

_All this aggravation ain't satisfactionin' me_

_A little more bite and little less bark_

_A little less fight and a little more spark_

-A Little Less Conversation

lyrics by Mac Davis & Billy Strange, performed by Elvis Presley

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* * *

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**Nights Since Orihime's Disappearance: 3 / Soul Society**

No sooner had Renji returned to his room than a Hell Butterfly summoned him away. _A summons to Ukitake's office. Immediately. What could he possibly want?_

After exiting Asgard, they had returned to the meeting place designated by Samedi only to find Urahara and an Egyptian goddess waiting for them with the Baron. Now that ladies were present, the man in the top hat made innuendo a thousand times worse than during their first meeting. To his embarrassment, Renji was the only one that blushed. He had chosen then and there to suppress those memories in the dark recesses of his mind where the other epic embarrassments were kept.

There were only two details of interest that he allowed himself to remember. The first was that Ma'at, the dark skinned woman with a feather in her hair, was introduced to him as the most senior deity that would be joining them in Soul Society. _Which probably means she's the most powerful. Note to self: try not to insult her like you insulted the last goddess._

Speaking of Hraust, she had remained passive-aggressive towards him for most of the trip back, glaring at him in his attempts to apologize. He supposed it was better than her being aggressive-aggressive; at least she hadn't knocked his teeth out for implying she was just a scullery maid.

While she had been opening the door at the end of the Bifrost Bridge, Renji had turned to Captain Kuchiki and asked the question that had been on his mind since 'the incident' happened.

"_I don't understand why Odin didn't introduce us, if she was always meant to go and was standing right there the whole time."_

Kuchiki had given him a mildly disapproving look. _"Going to Asgard for Odin's inspection was only a part of this journey. The primary reason was to let Hraust observe us before she agreed to come. She will have had to seal a significant portion of her power to come to our realm, and such things are usually permanent, when done for inter-realm travel. That is why similar procedures, though useful, are almost never done. There are few willing to make a permanent sacrifice._

"_He was giving her a chance to hear us and refuse before he pledged her service."_

Well, at least Renji understood her continued hostility a little better, seeing as he had insulted her after she agreed to maim herself for their benefit. _Smooth, Abarai._

Renji and Byakuya had dismounted to proceed through the door, but Hraust rode her warhorse straight through. For a moment, he thought she meant to take the animal with her to Soul Society. But once through the gate, she dismounted, removed her saddlebags, and tied up the reins.

"_What are you doing?" _he had asked as politely as he could, honestly curious.

She had scowled at him, but answered. _"Fárbjódhr is a Valkyrie's war horse. He will deal with any of the low-level hollows he comes across while grazing in your fields." _Renji had raised his eyebrow, but said nothing. _And everybody's always laughed at me for being edgy around horses._

Returning to the present, Renji still couldn't fathom what Ukitake could want. _A debriefing?_ Upon re-entry into Soul Society, Captain Kuchiki had given Renji his leave and informed him that he would take the two goddesses and the exile to General Yamamoto himself. _Maybe they need a report from me as well after all?_

There was nothing for it. He threw the heavy fur cloak, no longer necessary in Soul Society's warm weather, from his shoulders to the floor and strode towards Captain Ukitake's office.

When he arrived, he found that Urahara and the feather woman were already there. His captain and the Valkyrie were nowhere to be seen. _Not a debriefing then?_

"Ah, thank you for coming, Abarai," said the white-haired captain. Allow me to cut to the chase. "Do you know Arisawa Tatsuki?" That was probably the last thing Renji had expected the man to say.

"Arisawa Tatsuki?" The name sounded familiar, but he couldn't recall a face to go with it.

"She attends the Karakura high school that you so recently attended yourself," supplied Urahara.

An image of a dark haired girl speaking with Orihime rose to the surface of his mind. "Oh, yeah. _That_ girl. Sure, I know her."

"We were hoping you might," said Ukitake. "Renji Abarai, you are hereby ordered to return to Karakura, retrieve Arisawa, and bring her here. Your captain has assented for you to be placed on this mission."

A beat of silence passed in which he thought he must have misheard. "_What?"_

Urahara's eyes were hidden by the brim of his hat, but his voice carried loud and clear. "You are very familiar with the powers possessed by Sado Yasutora and Inoue Orihime, correct? The powers that were awakened in them as a result of their connection with and proximity to Kurosaki Ichigo? It has recently come to our attention that three more of Kurosaki's human friends have become spiritually aware: Arisawa Tatsuki, Kojima Mizuiro, and Asano Keigo."

"And because your people have invoked the Oath, it is only meet that you call your own to join the battle," said Ma'at.

"Ma'at-sama made a formal request of General Yamamoto," said Ukitake, nodding to the goddess, "asking that Soul Society take responsibility for teaching them how to control their reiatsu and use it in whatever way is beneficial to us in the coming war. The General has granted this request."

"And that's where you come in, free-loader-kun," smiled Urahara. "You will find Arisawa and escort her to my shop. There, she will be able to travel to Soul Society through a Senkaimon."

Something still didn't make sense to Renji. "Wait, slow down. You're saying you think that girl has powers?"

"That the girl as a heightened reiatsu level isn't a suspicion, Abarai, it's a fact. Her and the other two as well, though hers is the strongest," said Urahara. "It _is_ true that none of them have exhibited 'powers' yet, but that is what bringing them to Soul Society is meant to achieve."

"But it doesn't make any sense. You said that these awakenings are brought on by Ichigo, by his proximity. Fine. But I didn't see her hanging out with him much while I was there. Or any of the other humans with reiatsu, for that matter. I mean, I guess Inoue mentioned her now and then, and sometimes I saw them talking, but in all the time we were stationed at that school I never once saw her hang out with that crowd. Even those two idiots joined us for lunch a couple of times—probably to stare at Mastumoto's… Anyway, if she spent all this time with Orihime and Ichigo, then she must have done it exclusively when we weren't around. Like she was…"

Oh. He was an idiot.

"Yes?" asked Ukitake. Next to him, Urahara gave him a knowing smirk.

"Like she was _avoiding_ us," he finished. Why were these things always so much clearer in hindsight? "She could sense that something was off about us and she was avoiding us."

"And with four new classmates, and all the chaos surrounding your arrival, an old friend shying away didn't register with them as strongly as it might have," said Urahara.

Renji shook his head. "It wouldn't have mattered anyway. All of us had our hands busy with the Arrancar situation in Karakura, and spent a lot of time discussing it out of earshot of normal humans. If she hadn't avoided us, Hitsugaya's team would have found a way to exclude her more often than not." Something about that statement seemed harsh to Renji, knowing what he now did. _But it shouldn't,_ he thought. _It is the simple truth. _"Ichigo and company probably just found it convenient she seemed to have other plans and left it at that."

"Yes, well, in any case, we don't really know _when _exposure to Kurosaki's reiatsu is important in the process of his human friends attaining these powers," said Urahara. "Inoue had known him a considerably shorter amount of time than Sado, but their powers were activated simultaneously—and under the similar circumstances of being in a desperate fight for their lives. If it is a matter of latent ability requiring a specific trigger, it is quite possible that these three young people have always had the potential and just weren't in the right place at the right time." _Huh,_ thought Renji, _it's almost weird to hear him sound more like a scientist and less like a sneaky cloak-and-dagger._

"Alright, fine. The girl has a useable level of spirit power. But…why are you sending me? Wouldn't it be a better idea to send someone who had more contact with her? It seemed to me she was closer with Orihime than anyone, and Captain Hitsugaya and Matsumoto stayed at her place when we were there. Maybe she introduced them-"

"We already asked," said Ukitake. "Captain Hitsugaya and Matsumoto can't even recall an Arisawa, but they did say Orihime had politely refused company over the 'telephone' a couple of times when they were there to avoid questions about why they were staying with her."

"The same for Madarame and Ayasegawa," said Urahara. "They actually spent time with the two boys, so they've been assigned to retrieve them. But they do not remember her. You may not actually know her, Abarai, but you're the only Shinigami available that could even recognize her."

_What about you?_ Renji wanted to ask the man in the striped hat. _And what are you even doing here? Aren't you still an exile? _The nature of his smile made the red head think twice. _Best not to get indignant when you're planning to asking him for a favor._

_Looks like my trip to Hueco Mundo is going to be put off longer still_, he thought, resigned.

"Alright," said Renji, turning to Ukitake. "I'll go."

***~*~***

**Nights Since Orihime's Disappearance: 3 / Karakura**

Tatsuki skipped her mp3 player to the next track, and savored the feeling of impact against the soles of her feet as she jogged down the sidewalk. The rhythm of her pounding steps was constant, physical, and it helped her forget the day's failures.

After leaving Urahara's shop, she and the boys had made plans to skip school and go to the woods a few miles outside of Karakura. Even though they were directionless as how to proceed, they all agreed that they couldn't let whatever potential they had languish while they waited for help that might never come.

Sitting amongst the trees, Tatsuki had tried to show the boys the proper techniques for meditation. In their plotting, they had hypothesized that being able to achieve inner focus might help them access—or at least understand—their reiatsu on some level. She was mildly surprised when they caught on to the techniques fairly quickly.

Not that it did them any good.

She wasn't exactly expecting to shoot lasers from her hands the first day, or anything. But she had hoped for…_something._ Even with hours of meditation in the peaceful forest, the only thing that she could feel was the emptiness of Orihime's non-presence. No well-spring of power, no secret chakra, just troubled thoughts and a stomach beginning to growl.

For a few minutes, she thought she had been able to sense…er, _not_ sense, Ichigo's presence as well. It was similar to the lack of Orihime, except like a differently shaped hole. But this sensation was brief an uncertain, and she eventually wrote it off as wishful thinking that she had developed at least something new, however small.

After hours of fruitlessness, she had tried to show the boys some basic karate moves, so they wouldn't be totally hopeless if something should attack them. _Like something always does. Like something certainly will, now that there's a war brewing. _But that had been even more pointless than the meditation. Kojima had upper body strength like an adolescent girl. Asano was stronger than Kojima, but much less coordinated. If something attacked those two and they were alone, they wouldn't even be able to put up a struggle, must less a fight.

"_Don't give up on us yet, Arisawa," _Keigo had said, panting with exhaustion and conscious of his lack of skill. The tone of his voice was bound up with fear and embarrassment, apology and frustration. She had tried all evening to scrub the sound of it from her memory.

_Fool,_ she thought as she ran down the dark street. I _don't give up on anything._

She pushed herself harder, in time with the crashing music, trying to shove her frustration out the bottoms of her feet. _Faster. _No matter what she did, no matter how hard she tried, it just seemed like she was getting nowhere. _I might as well get there fast._

***~*~***

Renji touched down on a rooftop and opened his awareness into the darkened evening of Karakura. He could feel Ayasegawa and Madarame, their power bright but controlled, moving separately in the direction of two smaller flares close by. _The boys will be picked up quickly then._ He reached out a little farther and…

_There._ A flare more intense than either of the boys, but more controlled, making it look smaller superficially. Interesting. _Maybe she studies a martial art._ That seemed to ring some sort of bell in the scraps of information he could remember about her. Controlling reiatsu was all about focusing oneself, and most martial arts training used this as a cornerstone. Though it hadn't seemed to work for Ichigo. _I wonder what his excuse is for being so sloppy._

She was headed away from him at a moderately quick pace. _An evening run?_ Feeling their reiatsu levels now, it seemed unwise for any of those three to be out alone. _Hollows will see them miles off._ Frankly, he was rather surprised he had missed it all that time. _Especially that girl. We all must have been really distracted. _Maybe bringing them in was worth it just to make sure the school wasn't swamped with Hollows every waking moment.

Shunpo brought him about 10 yards behind her, and he could see he had been right. Dressed in a tank top and jogging shorts, she was in a dead run down the sidewalk. He recognized the spiky black hair, though it was longer than he remembered. _I'll match pace and call out her name, _he reasoned._ That should freak her out less than scooping her up in a flash-step and dumping her at the shop._

Using shunpo to come up 10 feet behind her, he matched pace to keep the distance between them constant. "Arisawa Tatsuki!"

No response.

"Arisawa Tatsuki!"

Nothing.

_Great! What the hell do I do now? _He increased speed slightly, and came within an arm's length of her back. He reached out to tap her shoulder. "Hey, I'm talking to—"

In the last sixteenth of a second before his hand made contact with her, the girl reached up to grab his wrist, stopped dead, and used his momentum to pivot him over her hip and throw him face-first into the ground. He was taken so completely by surprise, it was all he could do to keep from losing a tooth on the pavement. Two thoughts jumbled in his head simultaneously: _I was right about the martial arts training, _and, _Damn it, why is it always me that stupid crap like this happens to?! _By the time he had righted himself, she had bolted in a completely opposite direction than the one she had been traveling in.

Renji knew a lot about fighting for keeps, but trying to subdue a person who didn't want to be—without hurting them—was much more difficult than killing them outright. If this girl was indeed Ichigo's friend, he didn't want to explain to him later why her arm was broken. Not to mention the sad face that Inoue would make. _Still, though, she's clearly trained in some hand-to-hand style. She should be used to a few bruises._

He flash-stepped in front of her this time, and used the split second of surprise he had to grab both of her wrists. "Stop!" he commanded. "I just want to talk—" she managed to yank one of her arms free and rotated her body into position to flip him again. _Not this time._ He moved to counter her, avoided a quick jab to his nose, and recaptured her wrist.

_She's thrashing like a wildcat._ And she was stronger than he had expected. It was apparent that holding her arms was going to get him in trouble with her legs, and the more she struggled the more likely he was to lose his grip again. He used his height as leverage to turn and pin her against the wall of a nearby building, giving her less space to maneuver, and rotated his hip to block any kicks.

Thus pinned, she glared up at him with a look of pure viciousness. _Look, sweetheart, I'm not the one that rammed _your_ face into the concrete. _"Will you just calm—"

He never got the chance to finish. Pinning her arms up and blocking her legs had caused him to lean down, putting his face in range for her to rear up and drive the top of her head into his nose. A gurgling noise of surprise was all he could manage and blood dripped down his chin.

He dropped one of her wrists and leaned back, which was the worst mistake he could have made, as it left him open for what she did next.

"You're not erasing my memories," she spat, and kicked him as hard as she could in the groin. Renji collapsed to his knees on the pavement in blinding pain.

When the pain cleared a minute later, she had once again taken off running, and was nowhere to be seen. He rose to his feet and looked for her reiatsu, which was headed at break-neck speed for…was she going to _the shop?_ If she was headed where he had wanted to take her in the first place, then he might as well avoid round three and simply follow behind her.

He wiped at the blood still dribbling from his nose. _I must be fucking cursed._

*~*~*

**Nights Since Orihime's Disappearance: 3 / Karakura—Shouten **

When Arisawa crashed through the door like a rhinoceros with a grudge, Urahara wasn't surprised in the least. After Ayasegawa had returned with Kojima, and Madarame had dragged Asano through in a state of fearful shock, he had amused himself by tracking both Renji and Arisawa's reiatsu while the red head tried to rein her in. Having thus sensed her approach, and the way her reiatsu fluttered with anger, he had moved any breakables from the path between the door and the counter he now stood behind. And he was glad he had.

The girl stormed right up to counter and slammed her palm down like a hammer. Leaning as far forward as she possibly could against the plate glass—_My, what big teeth you have, Arisawa—_she snarled out, "You fucking _promised!_"

"You'll have to be more specific Arisawa-san."

Before she could execute the lunge that her leg muscles had tensed up for, the door slammed back open and a tattooed red head stomped through. "What the hell's your problem, ya crazy bitch?!"

She whirled to face him, and Urahara could see her body slide into a defensive stance. "_My_ problem?! Did you think I was just going to let you take my memories without a fight?! Did you think I was just going tuck my tail between my legs and let you freaks do whatever you wanted just because you're the _powerful Shinigami_ and I'm just a pathetic human?!"

"You're not even making any sense!"

She turned back to Urahara. "Look, I know none of you really give a crap about us _weaklings_, but if you're going to talk at me for hours about all this supernatural shit for your own amusement, and then send your _goon_ to erase my memory, you'd better send someone smart enough to know that you can't sneak up on a karate expert that can_ feel your reiatsu coming!_ Underestimating me like that embarrasses us both." He looked at her rage-filled face and sighed. _Quite the trust issues you have there, Arisawa-san, if you really think I'd have done all that talking just to make you forget it later_. Like he had that kind of time to waste. _Your insecurity over your friends is showing. _Maybe he should warn whoever ended up training her that they would have to oversee some bridge repair.

"_Goon?! _Damn it, I wasn't trying to sneak up on you!"

"Yes, goon! You've got fucking tattoos for eyebrows! You think that's normal?! And you tried to grab me from behind, you damn ape!"

Urahara was sure that finer entertainment could not be found in any of the other realms. Not even whichever one Kurosaki was in. "Accosting young women in the dead of night, Abarai-kun? My, what a pervert."

"Wha—NO!" yelled Renji, his face as red as his hair. "That's not…she…damn it, I _tried_ announce myself, but you weren't paying any attention! So who's fault is that?!"

"_Yours,_ dumbass, because I never asked you to haul off and try to kidnap me!"

Urahara couldn't resist. It was too perfect a set-up. "You didn't, Arisawa-san? I could have sworn you asked me for _something _last time you were here."

"And _another_—wait, what?!" whatever she had been about to say derailed, and she turned back to him with an incredulous expression.

He smiled. _I love it when they take the bait. _"Do you even know why Renji is here?"

The fury in her face melted somewhat, and he could see that he had caught her off-guard. "To erase my memory." Her voice was bitter, but uncertainty had found its way into the words. Behind her, Renji snorted.

Urahara took out his fan and waved it in front of his face. "I wasn't being facetious when I said I _couldn't_ erase your memory, Arisawa-san. Your reiatsu level has increased beyond the point at which your memories could be suppressed. And as you so loudly told me the last time we met, memories that _were_ suppressed are starting to resurface. Even if Abarai or I were to try, our attempt would be useless."

"Then why…"

"I was told to come here," Renji interrupted in a voice just under a shout, "to pick up Arisawa Tatsuki, and take her back to Soul Society so that she and those two guys could get their reiatsu under control. I did _not_ come here to get rammed in the face by a hysterical bitch and made fun of by a man waving a fan!" Urahara looked at Renji, and could feel frustration and resentment rolling off his shoulders in waves. _This one, too. Far too upset in a situation that doesn't call for it. It's not about being knocked upside the head, it's about being forced to stay behind only to then be knocked upside the head. _The shopkeeper mentally sighed. _Oh, to be young and full of angst again._

Tatsuki looked at Renji first, still tense and angry at the door, and then to him. And even though all the trouble he went through to get those three to Soul Society was simply another cog in the machine of his Winter War plan, and not done for the sake of those kids in particular, he couldn't help thinking her dumb-struck expression might have been worth it all on its own. "Isn't that what you wanted, Arisawa-san? Less talk, more action?" His smile was downright triumphant.

Urahara saw a change come over the girl immediately. Where before there had been panic written in the tense lines of her muscles, and unmitigated rage in her voice, every inch of her seemed to relax into a more controlled wariness. Obviously she was getting the picture. He smirked behind the fan.

Even her voice became more disciplined. "It's not your _face_ that my foot crashed into to make you yelp like a little girl. Think about that the next time you feel like calling me a 'hysterical bitch.'"

"Ku-ku. Arisawa Tatsuki, crippler of Abarai's manhood—and many others, no doubt. You would think Kurosaki would've had the decency to warn us, don't you Abarai?"

"HEY!" they both shouted in unison—and then promptly glared at each other.

"Arisawa-san. Now that you understand Abarai's intentions, I take it you agree to accompany him to Soul Society and undergo the training that they are offering you?" The words were barely out of his mouth when she blurted out a quick affirmation, as if someone was going to snatch the offer away. "Good. If you'd like to go to the washroom to clean up, it's at the back of the store. That is, unless you'd _like_ to meet the Gotei 13 with Abarai's blood on your forehead." She snorted, looked between them both, and stomped through the door to the back.

Renji rounded on him almost immediately. "She's crazy! You didn't tell me she was crazy. And fucking _violent_."

Urahara chuckled and opened the drawer where he kept the tobacco for his pipe. "Now, now Abarai-kun. I happen to know that short women with black hair giving you bruises is nothing new, so there's no need to get your feathers ruffled over it. And don't you think she has a legitimate reason to be suspicious of you? Open that box in the far left corner."

Renji ignored the comment about Rukia and moved to the corner where Urahara had pointed. "What for? _I_ never did anything to her. I don't think I said one word to her the entire time I was at that school_."_

_I can't have them at each other's throats for over a month,_ he thought. _While we're waiting for the bridge-repair crew, why don't we get a new one started? _"Ah, yes. No reason. Girl is almost killed by a hollow. Memory of truth erased. Girl fights and is almost killed by a hollow, again. Memory of truth erased. All girl's close friends become super-powered and don't tell her, but the girl knows, sees. Girl is almost killed by hollow, _again. _Memory of truth erased, though by this time it doesn't work anymore. Strange supernatural boy and company show up at school and are immediately welcomed by friends that still don't tell her, do not talk to her. One best friend disappears. Other best friend denies it. Witnesses the opening of Garganta, and handsome shop owner tells all. Now, Abarai-kun, if this is your pattern, what comes next in the sequence?" An uncertain, slightly guilty-looking scowl was his only reply. Urahara lit his pipe. "The black jacket."

Renji opened the box, which contained clothes for gigais, and began to paw through it. Having spent quality time doing inventory in the shop, the younger Soul Reaper didn't even question the instructions, but simply followed them. _At least being given a task has brought the anger level down. _After a few seconds, the former free-loader lifted up a small, long-sleeve jacket and quirked a eyebrow at him. He nodded.

"Well, what do I do with it?"

"You're going to give it to Arisawa when she gets out of the bathroom."

He looked at the garment in his hands. "Why?"

"Did you notice what she was wearing?"

Renji turned slightly pink, and for the life of him Urahara couldn't figure out where all these gruff boys got their prudishness and blushing. _It's not like I told him to picture her naked._ _Always more comfortable swinging a sword, these guys._ He chuckled at the discomfort and shook his head. "I doubt she'll want to meet everyone in Soul Society for the first time in only a tank top and running shorts."

"Oh," was all Renji had to offer.

"Well then, the Senkaimon is under the shop. It's already modified with the Reishihenkanki so that she can travel through without leaving her body here. Be so kind as to head down the ladder, and I'll send her down after I've had a few words." As he spoke, he pulled up the door in the floor that led to the underground, impossibly cavernous space.

"Pft. Fine." He slung the jacket over his shoulder and started down the ladder, but paused mid-rung. "Urahara-san, I wanted to speak with you about passage to Hueco Mundo. For after I finish this mission."

Those were the words that came out of his mouth. But what he was saying was, _Help me follow my friends. _Urahara could tell the difference. And he could also tell that this was not the time to inform Renji that he would not be following the Hueco Mundo quartet through the Underworlds. Igniting that fire now would only clog up the gears in the plan. And for this reason, all that Urahara said in response was, "Later. First things first, free-loader-kun." Renji's reply snort was cutoff as Urahara dropped the hatch door back down.

Tatsuki came out of the bathroom, her face slightly pink with that just-scrubbed look. She glanced around. "Where's the ape?"

"Readying the door to Soul Society downstairs. Before you go, there are a few items of business that you should be aware of."

"What are they?" her voice sounded like she knew she was making a contract. _At least she's in the right frame of mind for what's to come._

"First, you should be aware that you and those other two will be away from school for at least a month." Her eyes widened, but she didn't protest. _She knows how serious this situation is. _"Instead of being given replacement gigais, cover stories will have been given to your parents and school. You, Arisawa-san, are competing in martial arts competitions in the United States."

"By 'giving' you mean that you're erasing their memories and replacing them with something else. With the story that you choose," she corners of her mouth turned down.

"Yes."

"…Fine."

"Second, it is important for you to know that the reason you are being summoned for training is because a goddess from the Egyptian pantheon thought it was disgraceful that Soul Society hadn't tapped out all its own resources before calling for help. The powers-that-be agreed to train you as a favor to honor her. Because it represents more work for those who did not ask for it, it's possible that not everyone will support this undertaking, or your presence in Soul Society. Many are not pleased that our previous human comrades have either apparently defected or disobeyed orders at such a dire time."

Tatsuki snorted. "Well then, I guess they'll just have to get over themselves and deal with it."

Urahara smirked. "I suspected that would be your attitude. Finally, that 'ape' downstairs, although unfamiliar to you, _is_ a very good friend of people you claim to care a great deal about. You would have seen him the other night at the bridge, traveling with them to the Underworlds, if he had any say in it whatsoever. But he didn't. And he won't." He let that last sentence linger quietly, and from the look on her face he knew that at least one of the kids from Karakura knew how to read between the lines. _You three aren't the only ones who have been left behind against your will._

"Fine," she said. "I get it, fine."

That ditzy smile he loved to flaunt returned. "So please refrain from adding insult to injury by kicking him in the groin," he said with merriment.

"I said I know!"

He smiled, for real this time, and puffed out smoke. "Safe travel, Arisawa-san." He gestured to the basement door.

Her fingers paused a hair's breadth from the handle. "Thank you, Urahara-san." The hatch lifted and she disappeared down the rungs.

Urahara stood in his now-quiet shop and took a long pull from the pipe. _Now on to phase two._

***~*~***

**Nights Since Orihime's Disappearance: 3 / Hueco Mundo**

She must have fallen asleep on the couch while watching TV again, because Sora was carrying her to bed. _What was I watching? _Heavy eyelids struggled to open, but it was like her lashes were glued together. Her limbswere hanging, uncomfortably limp, and she tucked the furthest up against his chest, near her face.

The rough fabric of his shirt scraped against her cheek (_He should spend some money on himself—some nice, soft shirts)_, and suddenly she could not remember if she had finished her homework before falling asleep. _What if I forgot to do it and the teacher gets mad at me? And what if they call Sora to come in for a meeting? And what if he has to take off work?_

This thought was enough to unstick her eyelashes, and she tilted her head up to tell him that she needed to check her book bag. But when her blearily eyes cleared, instead of seeing Sora, his skin warm with life, she saw a bloodless cheek scarred by a green stripe.

"Aaaaah!"

Startled and acting on reflex, she brought both palms out in front of her and shoved against Ulquiorra's chest with all the panicked strength she could muster. Her mistake was evident less than half a second later, when she rolled out of his grasp and slammed down onto the floor. Her shoulder met the gleaming, hardtile with a sickening 'thud_.'_

For his part, Ulquiorra had stood still during the commotion, his arms still extended in front of him as if to mockingly say, _Foolish woman. _I_ didn't drop you."_

When she clasped her shoulder and gently exhaled in pain, he slowly let them fall back to his side. "Your motions lacked both sense _and_ grace, woman. If you preferred to walk under your own power upon waking, you could have simply stated this," he said.

"Sorry," she said, and was confused about why she felt the need to apologize—_she_ was the captive they were running tests on, after all. "I guess I wasn't thinking clearly when I woke up. Heh…heh…" she brought out her nervous laugh, which she used for covering accidental impoliteness and diverting incredulous expressions when she said something strange. "I just…I just saw you and…" _How do you politely tell someone that you saw their face upon waking and that it was worse than any nightmare?_

"…I frightened you." _Well, I guess that's one way. _It was not a question, nor was it tinted with any shade of emotion. It was just a logically concluded fact. _He isn't hurt by it. Silly girl, of course he isn't. Does he even have feelings to hurt?_

_Still…_

"I was frightened because I couldn't remember where I was," she finished. It was the truth, after all, and didn't taste like an insult in her mouth.

He made a noise that sounded decidedly like a snort, and Orihime interpreted it as a signal he was not interested enough to force the issue. "Get up."

She put her arm out to push herself to a stand, but it was the _wrong_ arm, and she yelped in pain. Through eyes that were beginning to cloud with water, she looked up to see him staring at her expressionlessly.

He did not offer her his hand.

She was caught off-guard by her own surprise for a moment, simply because she wasn't sure why she had expected him to. Like a reflex. _Kurosaki would have,_ she knew. _Ishida and Sado and Rukia and Tatsuki and Sora, them too. _She had not realized, had taken it for granted, that in her old life she had been constantly surrounded by people that would have given her their hand if she had fallen, literally and figuratively. That _had_ picked her up on the countless occasions she had not been paying attention and tripped.

"Get up," Ulquiorra repeated.

She rose on coltish legs, using the proper arm for support this time. He turned away from her and started down the hall again, his hands now in his pockets. When she had caught up to walk a step behind him, he began to speak in his deep monotone. "Szayel Granz removed more blood from your system than was deemed advisable. You fainted during the procedure, but should recover your health with the proper nutrition."

"I see," she said, and faintly wondered why he deigned to give her an explanation. She could remember almost none of the procedure he spoke of, beyond the sensation of cold metal and the repeated sting of a needle's puncture. She suspected this was for the best.

Ulquiorra continued. "It has been made clear to him that any future deviations from approved procedures will be unacceptable."

She lifted her eyes from the snapping tails of his coat to the back of his helmet. "Future? Does that mean…does that mean there will be more of these…procedures?"

"Granz's work will continue until he has successfully fulfilled Aizen-sama's wishes."

"But…if I fainted this time…"

"The procedures are not your concern, woman. Your responsibility is to maintain your health, and fulfill Aizen-sama's wishes."

"But these procedures _affect_ my health." Driven on by the phantom feeling of a needle in her neck, she was as close to being indignant as she had ever come. "If Granz-san…"

"Silence, woman. I will not repeat myself. You will concern yourself with eating the provided meals and behaving as instructed, and nothing more."

"But…"

"It is _my_ responsibility to make sure you remain unharmed." The more she thought about it, the more she was sure she had imagined the slight inflection.

*~*~*

That night in bed, she remembered looking at his blank face as he did not reach out a hand to help her up. "I am alone here," she said out loud, her voice echoing off the high ceiling. "I will have to be strong for myself."

*~*~*

**Nights Since Orihime's Disappearance: 3 / Soul Society**

As they stepped out into a landscape that looked suspiciously like the set of a movie about feudal Japan, Tatsuki pulled at the sleeves of her jacket. She and red head and reached a stiff truce after she had come down the ladder and he had thrust the garment out at her, dangling it on his finger tips. She had taken the jacket and the cue.

"_We got off on the wrong foot." _She had been careful not to place blame _or_ admit guilt. It had been a textbook example of a misunderstanding, after all.

"_Yeah."_

"_I'm Arisawa."_

"_Abarai."_

"_Thank you for escorting me, Abarai-san. I have been waiting a long time for this." _She had tried to keep the anger from the statement, but from the look he gave her, she could tell he heard it anyway. She avoided his eyes.

The rest of the trip was made in relatively comfortable silence. When they reached the other side of the…tunnel, whatever it was, he turned to her and said, "I was told they wanted to present you guys to the Gotei 13 right away, to find someone to teach you. We're late, so they're probably already assembled." Tatsuki thought it was judicious of him not to place blame for their lateness in the statement. "We'll head to the assembly immediately."

She followed him as he moved off, and struggled not to start skip-stepping to match his long stride. She didn't complain, though, because appearing to be slow or weak would be at least as bad as appearing to skip.

The scenery passed by in a blur, and they came to stand before the doors of a wide, single-story building. "This is the place," said her guide.

The minute they walked in the door, the sound of a hundred voices talking to one another assaulted her. Gathered in a single large room, veritable hoard of Shinigami were crowded around a slightly raised platform, where a man with hair as white as his overcoat was standing with Keigo and Mizuiro.

"It's about time," someone called to Abarai, belligerent annoyance in his voice. Tatsuki turned to see it was the bald guy that had stayed with Keigo. Though he had not said it to be funny, a handful of chuckles sounded around the noisy room. The voices quieted significantly as they saw the last group had arrived. _Looks like they _were_ waiting on us. _Abarai ignored it all and led her up to the platform.

The white-haired man smiled at her, and the effect was so disarming she nearly fell getting up the dais. _That is the first time any person involved in this…business has ever made me feel even slightly welcome._ It was almost uncomfortable to return the smile, as anger over everything had become such a familiar state.

With as much grace as she could manage, she climbed up and joined the two boys, who both greeted her with anxious exclamations of "Arisawa!"

"Hello, Arisawa-san," said the white-haired man. My name is Ukitake Jushiro. Did Lieutenant Abarai tell you why you're here?"

"Yes, Ukitake-san."

Another smile. "Excellent. I've been given the task of arranging someone to work with each of you to assess the nature of your reiatsu—bring out any powers you might have, like Sado and Inoue, and teach you to control them so that you can help us. I've been told that all three of you _have_ agreed to help us, is that correct?"

"That's right," said Tatsuki firmly. The boys nodded, albeit with trepidation.

"Excellent," he motioned to the crowded room that stretched before them. "You see before you the assembled seated officers of the thirteen Shinigami squads. General Yamamoto agreed to take you three on, under three conditions. The first is that you use what we teach you to help us, to which you have already assented. The second is that those who are given the task must volunteer for the job; I cannot force anyone to train you that would rather focus on preparing themselves for the coming war, since our own warriors are our primary responsibility. Finally, I cannot allow any of our top officers—captains or lieutenants—to be your primary teachers. All us officers will be exceedingly busy in the coming weeks, and cannot be diverted from our tasks.

"However, I feel that unseated Shinigami will not be advanced enough to work with you in the short amount of time we have before the projected start of the war. With that in mind, I have assembled the seated officers in this forum to find volunteers."

Tatsuki was practically trembling with anticipation, and pulled out the most respectful response she could. "Thank you, Ukitake-san. We are grateful for this opportunity, and accept those terms." She had not looked back at the boys, but she had the distinct feeling they were looking to her anyway.

"Please be patient. This shouldn't take long." He stepped out in front of them, facing the Shinigami, and the room instantly fell silent. All eyes turned to Ukitake.

"Thank you all for coming. As has been explained to you by your respective captains, Soul Society has agreed to train these three humans, all of them exhibiting strong reiatsu. We need at least three volunteers for this task—one to assign to each—and we are looking specifically for seated officers to fulfill this role. Volunteers will be given whatever materials and resources they need, with the exception of their Captain or Lieutenant's time. Volunteers must be willing to take full responsibility for their charges.

"Now, I ask you, who will step forward?"

Ukitake was met with a silent room. Well, nearly silent, except for the sputtered protestations of one bald man.

"Alri—I said _okay_, damn it!" Everyone turned to face the loud, bald Shinigami, who was being jabbed in the ribs by the elbow of another Shinigami who had…feathers? _Oh, him. That's the other guy that was staying at Keigo's._

"Me and Yumichika will take the two guys," said baldy. The feathered man nodded.

"Excellent," said Ukitake. "Asano Keigo, you will be placed in the care of Madarame Ikkaku," he said, motioning to the bald man. "Kojima Mizuiro, you will be the responsibility of Ayasegawa Yumichika," he gestured at feathers. "Please work hard, all of you."

There was a minute while the boys on the platform and the two Shinigami just stared at each other, until Madarame broke the uncertainty with a loud, "Well get over here, you idiots!" The boys clamored down the dais to the snickers of the crowd, and made their way to their new caretakers.

Tatsuki looked around, fully and painfully aware that she was now alone on the stage, being stared at by more than a hundred death gods, and waiting in the silence for someone to volunteer to train her.

And no one was making a sound.

It might have only been a minute, or even a couple of seconds, but to Tatsuki it felt like lifetimes were passing while she was under everyone's scrutiny, being stared at and judged and dismissed. Murmurs ran along the edges of the room like scurrying insects, and she could hear the refusal in everyone's voices, the unwillingness to pick up more work.

A sudden fear clutched her. _Those two guys took up the boys because they had stayed in Keigo's house. They must be honoring that debt. But I… _None of the Soul Reapers that were at her school had as much as talked to her, let alone stayed with her. No one there was obligated to her. If it was not made into an order, no one there was going to help her.

She looked over at the red head that had brought her here, but remembered that he was "Lieutenant Abarai," and that disqualified him even if he were willing to help her—which might not even be the case, as she had kicked him where it hurts. His eyes were not on her, but the crowd, and were searching among the death gods with a frown.

She tightened her fists so hard, she was sure her palms were bleeding. Her shoulders squared and her teeth clenched together. _Look determined, not scared, _she told herself. She was not sure it was working. She had no idea how to present herself in this forum that would encourage the assembly to think of her as a potential asset and not a burden.

It was then that the unthinkable happened. From somewhere in the crowd, a voice whispered loud enough for everyone to hear, "Pft. Looks like she's gonna start crying." The snickers afterwards, though, were worse.

She pivoted sharply to the source of the insult and tensed her muscles in preparation to lunge at—_and eviscerate_—the person who had spoken. _I'll show you 'crying.' I'll floss my teeth with your entrails._ For a wild second, she did not care if they kicked her out of Soul Society afterwards. To be so hurt by her friends, to fight so hard for this moment, to come so far as this platform and be _mocked_ in front of the whole damn pantheon by some asshole—she was so white-hot angry it was impossible for her to think of anything but making him choke on his words.

The snarky, amused look in the man's eyes morphed into something a little less certain, and in the split second before she charged, a woman announced loudly, "I will take the girl." Her voice was like a bullwhip snapping. Startled, Tatsuki forgot about attacking and turned in her direction.

Moving towards her through the crowd was a woman who stood taller than all of the other women and many of the men present. Everything about her frame, from the width of her shoulders and hips to the thickness of her wrists, suggested that she was not Japanese.

She walked with heavy steps, and when she cleared the gathering, Tatsuki could see a sake jug dangling from her fingertips. She stopped at the edge of the crowd and glared. There was frank appraisal in her eyes as they remained locked on Tatsuki's, like the woman could pull her soul out of her eye sockets and pin it to the wall for inspection. She had the absurd thought that she was about to attempt just that.

"Do you know me?"

Something about it felt like a challenge. She squared her shoulders, ignored the feeling of weight pressing against her eyeballs, and glared right back. "Not even a little."

The woman snorted, and seemed to stand even taller. "I am Hraust, a Chooser of the Slain," she said to Tatsuki. "And you're not one of mine.

"But if she thinks she can survive it," the woman said to everyone, "I will take this girl."

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_Author's Note 2:_ Look at that! Another chapter within two weeks. I'm impressed my own self. Just to let you all know, with the holidays, finals, and a bunch of other projects in real life coming up, the next update won't be as quickly as this one was. However, it will _not_ be as long as the two month gap the time before. And maybe I'll surprise myself with lickety-speed.

Thank you to everyone who's made it this far and enjoyed this story. Special thanks and proclamations of awesomeness go to: hi!, InfiniteDragon, Delphine Pryde, Xoroth, Sironblood1, Kelster Lynn, Nachtweiss, MiraResQNU, Kairikiani, and red lilies for their reviews of the last chapter. I'm glad that you all seem to really like the mythology notes! It really makes it worth taking the time to write them.

Also, for all of you out there that are mythology geeks (*raises hand, obviously guilty*), I've got lots more gods on the docket to appear, from more pantheons. However, if there's a god out there you are really hoping shows up in this story, please feel free to say so in a review or a PM. The framework of this story is pretty much planned out, but even if they're not on my list I could probably still work them in. And I like learning about new gods, anyway!

If this story is striking you, either for good or ill, please drop me a review and tell me what you think. Constructive criticism is always welcome, reviews encourage me to write faster, and every time I get a new one it's like a little present in my inbox. I 'squee' over every one.

No mythology notes this time, but I guess out of withdrawal I've added a couple of story points below in anticipation of some questions you might have.

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_Story Notes:_

**Fárbjódhr: **Old Norse for "destroyer."

**Who was the insulting jerk?** Just some seated officer from the 11th. Not a jerk of note.

**Are you going to make Tatsuki a Valkyrie? **Nope. As Hraust says, she's not one of hers, and as kick-ass as she would be, I have more cannon-supported plans for her.

**Why is Hraust at an assembly for seated officers? **Ma'at has obvious interest in attending the assembly, and the Valkyrie accompanied her. They were both at the back of the room, but Tatsuki didn't notice them when she walked in.


	9. Death Wish

_Disclaimer:_ I do not own any of the characters in the following work. All recognizable anime characters belong to Tite Kubo. All others characters are adapted from a diverse spread of cultural and mythological lore. I am making no profit from this story.

_Author's Note 1:_ I'm very, very sorry for the late, short chapter. If you're wondering why this chapter is so very late, and so very short, there is a shame-faced explanation on my profile page. I apologize if this chapter doesn't seem to move the action forward very much, but it does contain a few key points needed to move everything else forward. I hope this tides you guys over until a much larger chapter I plan to drop during mid-March (aka Spring Break).

We begin this chapter right where we left off…

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**Chapter 9: Death Wish**

_Haven't got a death wish_

_Just want a little more_

-Miracle Goodnight

by David Bowie

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_**Nights Since Orihime's Disappearance: 3 / Soul Society**_

A glacier.

Staring the woman in the eyes, that was all Tatsuki could think about: vast fields of ice, unyielding to any mortal's puny attempts at warmth or fire. She hardened the look on her own face. _You don't need to melt a glacier to survive an Ice Age,* _whispered the wiser part of herself. _You just need to keep from freezing to death._

"I will ask you this only once," said the woman, her voice as frosty as her gaze. "If I take you as my charge, I will do everything in my vast power to grind you down to dust beneath my heel. And you will either rise from the dirt to be re-wrought stronger than steel, or I will scatter your ashes to the four winds and forget you ever existed." It was not phrased as a question, but there was no doubt in Tatsuki's mind what she asked. _Choose_, the eyes said. _Power, or safety?_ _Your friends, or your life?_

_She is not kidding,_ Tatsuki thought, listening to the cadence of the Valkyrie's voice. _If I accept her offer,__I will either successfully harness my powers or die from the training._

Perhaps it was strange, but the prospect of her own death did not scare her. The thought of Orihime being held captive, at the mercy of monsters that would force from her anything they wanted, _that_ scared her. The thought of her friends being slaughtered by the enemy, hideously rent apart in gore and blood while she sat at a school desk pretending to care about calculus, _that_ haunted her nightmares. Those were the fears that she would not, could not abide.

It was not that she had a death wish. She sure as hell didn't want to die. But ever since she had first taken her own safety—and the safety of her friends—into her hands by dedicating a significant portion of her life to martial arts, an unshakable truth had resided in her heart: Some risks are worth taking. Some things are worth dying for.

Tatsuki didn't want to die. But she wasn't scared of it either.

_As if I'd quit now. As if spontaneously becoming a coward now guaranteed those _things_ wouldn't kill me at home in my bed._

"I came here to save my friends," she said—loudly, clearly, staring into the icy depths. "And if I have to move the Earth and every existing Netherworld to do it, including whichever one _you_ come from_, _I will." _You're not the only one that can make grandiose statements, Ice Queen._

The woman arched one blonde eyebrow, setting her mouth in a straight line. She did not respond to Tatsuki's words, but instead turned to Ukitake. "I had forgotten how amusing the brashness of youth was, Ukitake-dono, but she is sufficient. I will take this girl."

"Hraust-dono, it is extremely generous of you to offer your time for this endeavor, but…"

"Generous?" She snorted. "Hardly. I believe this arrangement will have strategic value for both of us." Tatsuki didn't know why, but she got the distinct impression that the "us" being referred to was the Valkyrie and the Shinigami, not Tatsuki herself. This was more of a relief to Tatsuki than an insult; it meant the driving force behind her offer was not pity, as Tatsuki had feared at first, but cold calculation. And what was more, if Hraust thought she could personally gain from making Tatsuki strong, chances were good the demi-goddess would not only take the training seriously, but do a very thorough job of it.

"As you know, there will be a period of…adjustment for me in this realm," Hraust continued, pausing to take a long swig from the jug of sake. "Training at any level will significantly hasten the process. I am aware that you have other tasks for me, but I'm sure you would agree that building my power to the most formidable level I can now attain is the most important preparation I can make for your war."

Being talked about by two of the most powerful death gods in the room as if she weren't standing right next to them was beginning to get uncomfortable. She felt like an eavesdropper on a conversation she was specifically included in. Still, she filed the information about her prospective teacher away for future reference.

"Very well," said Ukitake. "I certainly have no cause to deny you. I just wanted to make it clear that there are Shinigami who could fulfill the role, and who could still do so if it becomes a bothersome task among your other preparations." He paused to give Tatsuki a slightly apologetic smile, as if to say, _"Not that I mean you're bothersome."_ Tatsuki wondered what this man was like when he wasn't unfailingly polite. She hoped she would never find out.

"I saw a number of my squad that were considering it," he continued, "and two in particular that were hashing out a deal to split the task between them." This statement was such a surprise to Tatsuki that she almost thought he was lying. _Some Shinigami were still considering it?_ It seemed like she had stood there for 20 minutes listening to quiet protestations, grumbles, and worse: silence.

_Wait, no, it wasn't that long, was it?_ She tried to replay it in her mind. It had only been a couple of minutes ago, after all. But all she found were the feelings of anger and embarrassment, the echo of snickering after the man had insulted her, and the look in his face as she set herself to lunge. All other details, if they were ever there, had melted into something vague.

Had she just…freaked out and focused on the wrong things? Had Shinigami been about to volunteer and she couldn't see it for all her anger and fear?

Unacceptable.

_Note to self, _she thought, _the best training in the universe and three wishes from a magic Genie will not make a sliver of difference unless you get your shit together. _It's not like she could just make all her bitter feelings disappear, but for the first time she felt cognizant of the fact that they might hinder her just as much as they fuelled her tenacity.

_I would have attacked that man, for an insult that stopped being effective in the 4__th__ grade. I would have done my best to gravely injure one of their warriors, and probably would have been tossed out on my ass—or worse—all for a schoolyard taunt. _She was vaguely disgusted with herself. _If I'm going to help my friends, I have to get my feelings, and myself, under control._

She was brought out of her reverie by the Valkyrie's reply. "Thank you, Ukitake-dono. It will not be necessary."

"Very well." Ukitake's facial expression went into another bright smile, "Work hard, both of you. Arisawa, I will have Madarame and Ayasegawa find quarters for you when they make arrangements for the two boys. In the mean time, I'll send someone to collect all three of you for some food."

Tatsuki looked over to a far corner of the now empty room—_I was so focused on the conversation, I didn't notice everyone leaving—_where the boys now stood uncertainly with their new instructors. Their eyes held worry as they looked back at her, as if they could sense the glare of the bald man behind them, irritably leaning against the wall with one foot, or the vague disapproval of the pretty man with feathers. Or was their worry for her—for her assignment under a less bald, less pretty, but much harsher woman?

_They won't last here if they don't toughen up, _she thought. Her next thought, of course, was that she had a responsibility to help them with that.

In any case, the entire group seemed to be waiting or her, some more patiently than others.

In the brief glance, she also noticed someone she hadn't seen before when the room was still crowded. In the corner opposite from the boys—on the other side of the door that had been left open after the mass-exodus—sat a dark-skinned woman in a white dress. She was casually seated with her legs folded beneath her and her hands laid in her lap, yet there was no mistaking who she was; it was her Tatsuki had seen by the river only a short time ago.

Tatsuki though she saw the woman start to smile before she hurriedly turned her face away and back to Ukitake. _Don't want to be caught staring,_ she told herself.

She bowed at the waist to the man, "Thank you for this opportunity, Ukitake-san. I am very grateful. We are all very grateful."

"Good luck, Arisawa." As he left the large, empty room, he gave a nod to the dark-skinned woman and a hearty, "Good luck!" to the boys as well.

Tatsuki turned to the tall woman before her. "Thank you for your help, Hraust-san," she said, bowing once again at the waist. She almost added on the "Please take good care of me" that was deemed polite in these types of social situations, but thought better of it before her mouth could form the words. Something about this woman demanded it be dropped.

Hraust snorted. "Time has yet to prove whether you will be grateful for my offer or not. Thank me when your body parts are not scattered across the countryside, gathering flies." She crossed her arms and looked down at Tatsuki, the height difference more obvious than ever. "We will begin your training at the first glimmer of dawn. It will be brutal in a way you cannot anticipate. Spend this nightfall preparing yourself for the task ahead of you." She turned almost before the last word was out of her mouth and took a long stride for the exit.

"Where do we meet?" called Tatsuki, refusing to jog after her. Something told her that saving face in front of this woman was an important part of the challenge before her.

"I will find _you_," she called over a shoulder, and was out the door.

At some point during her conversation with the Valkyrie, the dark-skinned woman had gone as well. All that was left in the enormous room were her, the two strange Shinigami, and the two boys recently put in their care. Keigo and Mizuiro's eyes said it all as they stared at her from across the hall. _What have we gotten ourselves into?_

"Hey!" said baldy. "Girly! Hurry the hell up! We're fucking hungry!"

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_Author's Note 2:_ Again, sorry that it's so short. The next chapter should be out around mid-March, when I have some forced-relaxation planned. In that chapter, Osiris will explain to the on the Hueco Mundo Four (and us) how everything death and divinity works in this world.

Thank you to everyone who's made it this far, enjoyed this story, and shown patience with my horrible writing schedule. Special thanks and proclamations of awesomeness go to: Xoroth, red lilies, InfiniteDragon, shadowgouf, Nachtweiss, Kelster Lynn, anonymous, dragonlayer, MiraResQNU, Dreamweaver Mirar, Daricio, ??????, and Maskedgoddess for their reviews of the last chapter. You all rock wicked hard!

No mythology notes this time, but instead, I bring you science.

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_Science Notes:_

**Ice Age: **Fun scientific fact—anytime there is ice at the poles, the Earth is in an "ice age." While most people refer to the "Ice Age" as something that ended when mammoths and saber-toothed cats when extinct, the fact is that today, this very minute that you are reading this, we are in an ice age. Another fun fact: there were no glaciers anywhere when dinosaurs roamed the Earth.


	10. Forgotten Fairytales

_Disclaimer:_ I do not own any of the characters in the following work. All recognizable anime characters belong to Tite Kubo. All others characters are adapted from a diverse spread of cultural and mythological lore. I am making no profit from this story.

_Author's Note 1:_ OMG, there's a chapter. No, for real, here it is. I'm not going to go into the long tortured story of what took me so long, suffice to say it was a never-ending parade of WTF? Incidents. This chapter kind of sets up some important rules for "death" in this universe, so I'm sorry if "exposition" outweighed "ass-kicking" in a chapter long overdue. Feel free to be harshly critical in a review!

P.S. I realized during my re-read of the manga that I had forgotten what a dedicated follower of fashion Ishida is. You'll have to forgive me if it shows up here.

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**Chapter 10: Forgotten Fairytales**

_Night surrounds_

_We're roaming through the shades_

_Of forgotten fairytales_

-Seasonspeech

by Elvenking

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_**Nights Since Orihime's Disappearance: 3 / Duat—Hall of Two Truths**_

Even sitting, Ishida could tell that the man on the elevated throne was taller than Ma'at had been. Much taller, given the high white crown that sat on his head, with strange feathers like the one in Ma'at's hair flanking it on either side, like folded wings. His neck was heavy with thick gold necklaces, the metal set with all manner of colorful stones and falling to rest upon a simple robe of the purest white. Though it seemed to Ishida that such an ensemble should assault his finely-tuned sense of style, the separately gaudy pieces seemed perfectly harmonious when taken as a whole.

"Welcome to the Hall of Two Truths,* young ones," he said in a deep baritone as they neared the throne. "I am Osiris,* son of the Earth and Sky,* God of the living and the dead." Even if he had not just told them so, it couldn't be clearer to Ishida that this was the lord of their underworld. _His presence here, his reiatsu, is even stronger than Bast's is, than Ma'at's was. He might not be the head god of the entire pantheon, but this hall, this throne, is definitely the seat of his power. _The Quincy filed this information neatly away for future reference. If for some reason their relationship with this pantheon went awry, the Hall of Two Truths was _not_ the place to engage in a fight with them. In this place, he could practically feel the weight of the god's reiatsu as a pressure on his eyes, a slight ringing in his ears. _I wonder if it's worse for Kuchiki. Or Kurosaki, for that matter._

"We are honored by your hospitality, Osiris-sama," said Rukia on a deep bow.

He raised one hand and made a lowering motion. "Please, sit. We have much to converse upon." Glances were traded back and forth amongst the group, until finally Chad was the first to sit down, cross-legged in the sandy dust before the throne. _Unusual seating arrangements, _thought Ishida as he and the others followed suit. Obviously none of them were used to sitting before a throne like children waiting for story time. Particularly Kurosaki, whose fidgeting was so distracting Ishida was wondering who would snap at him first—him or Rukia. But if it was awkward for the Egyptian death god, he did not give any indication.

"When he asked us to aid you in your journey, Urahara Kisuke also related that the four of you would have differing levels of knowledge of the spirit realms, and that he would not have time to fully educate you in their workings," he continued. "I am told that even among fully functioning Shinigami, most of the intricacies aren't learned until the status of Lieutenant has been achieved. I, as the Lord of the Living and Dead for this pantheon, have accepted the responsibility of teaching you this information."

If it weren't so ridiculous, Ishida would swear in public that he was born with some type of stupidity radar. It was the only thing that could explain the distinct raising of the hairs on the back of his neck only seconds before Ichigo loudly interrupted the polite acceptance Rukia was about to make, leaving her mouth hanging open.

"Look, it isn't that I don't appreciate your help, but isn't there plenty of time for us to learn history lessons _after_ we rescue Inoue?" asked Ichigo, brash as ever.

_No sense of decorum,_ thought Ishida. _You'd think he'd show respect to _some_ authority in this universe. _It was not that Ishida did not understand Kurosaki's sense of urgency. On the contrary, he very much shared it. Every second not spent in motion, in action, lent itself to idle, useless worry about where Orihime could be, and what they could be doing to—_No, _he cut that line of thought off. _No. Focus._

"I mean, I understand about the moon thing, and that we have to stay here at least four more days until we can move on," continued the boy, seemingly unaware of his own rudeness and the incredulous expression on Rukia's face at his words, "but the cat woman said that we were going to be training. Why aren't we spending every second we can doing _that?"_

Ishida could see Osiris's black eyes bore into Ichigo, his expression inscrutable. He had not noticed it before, but the god's skin wasn't the simple dark olive that Ma'at and Bast shared. Well, it _was_, but over that base complexion, his face and neck seemed to shimmer with green* at each slight movement, like the shifting of color on the surface of a soap bubble. Later he would think back on the image and frown with confusion, but in the moment it seemed perfectly normal. Perfectly suitable.

"What is a _god_, Kurosaki Ichigo?" said the deep voice.

Ichigo's face tightened into a scowl, as if it could not decide whether it was confused or affronted by the challenge, and did not answer. _Maybe there's hope yet he'll learn that it's best for fools to remain silent,_ thought Ishida.

Osiris raised one eyebrow and said in a firmly chiding voice, "If you don't know what a god _is_, how could you hope to defeat one? How could you even begin to imagine how to survive a fight with one? Listen well. Your impertinence, though uncalled for, is of no consequence. Most of the gods you will meet on this journey are much too old and too powerful to feel slighted by one such as you. But your impatience _will_ result in your death, or the death of your friends."

At the final sentence, Ichigo's eyes became hard and tracked to the floor, and Ishida could see that the rebuke had struck home.

"To understand the ways of the dead, you must understand what death gods are," Osiris continued, looking at them each in turn. "And to understand what death gods are, you must understand what _gods_ are.

"For as long as humans have walked this earth, they have known of us, have felt us, we beings called Gods. Even before the written word, your ancestors and their cousins* painted our pictures on stone walls and made us offerings of food and blood. In their praises, humans of millennia past and present credit us with the formation of this world. There are as many creation stories as there are pantheons. But this is not truth. We are not responsible for the inception of the infinite galaxies, or the movement of the celestial spheres around the sun, or the holding of your body to the Earth. We did not create this universe, we are but a part of it; created when it was, set in motion like the orbits of the planets. We Gods are as much a part of the natural order of this world as lightning is in cycling nitrogen* particles through the environment: not the generator of the system, but an important, _powerful_ impetus to keep the flow of life on this planet steady."

"Wait," blurted Ichigo. "Wait, slow down a minute. You say that you don't 'hold our bodies to the Earth,' and stuff. Then what does?"

The man stared at Ichigo for a long moment, and then a smirk lifted the corner of his mouth. "I believe you call it _gravity_, Kurosaki Ichigo."

Somewhere, an insect was chirping. Ishida resisted the urge to facepalm, since _someone_ had show some understanding of propriety.

Ichigo's cheeks colored slightly. _We can only hope it's with the deserved embarrassment,_ thought Ishida_._ "What I meant was, if you didn't create the universe, what did? And why?"

Osiris shrugged, an elegant gesture that made the gold at his neck throw light in all directions. "To that, I do not have an answer, Kurosaki Ichigo. Perhaps it was the work of a power even greater than that of the combined gods of this world. Perhaps it was nothing more than a random, convenient collision of particles. In any case, I am of the mind that the responsibility I bear to this world is more important than abstract ponderings of why it exists.*"

There was a general silence in the room as everyone digested that truth.

"Ah," said Osiris, in a somewhat more somber tone, "but let me continue explaining what we _are_, before I get to what it is we _do._

"At the beginning of this universe, a large reservoir of what you call _reiatsu_ was shattered and divided across it, much like matter was shattered in the void of space. Also like matter, the pieces congealed into many different shapes and sizes, as were the planets, moons, and asteroids. The largest of these spiritual bodies were to be the most powerful of what you know of as Gods—heads of pantheons, who, also like astral bodies, collected a variety of smaller _reiatsu_ forms around them, ranging from those approaching their power to those that can barely hold a candle to their bonfire like presence—their pantheon.

"However, not every tiny speck of _reiatsu_ was collected in such large vessels," said the Osiris, to his rapt audience. "A multitude of tiny pieces were scattered across the shape of this world, eventually finding homes in physical molecules—bodies of flesh and bone."

"So you're saying," began Ishida, pushing his glasses up from the bridge of his nose, "that the _reiatsu_ of human beings is the same as yours, just on a much smaller scale."

"Correct, Ishida Uryu. Humans, beasts, plants—anything that lives bears at least a tiny fragment of this power. This piece, which bears a different name on every tongue—_reiatsu_ in your tongue, the _ba_ in mine, the _soul_ in yet another—it is that piece which makes you _you_. And it does something more—it can grow."

"Grow?" asked Chad.

Osiris smiled. "You, perhaps more than most, Sado Yasutora, understand that the spiritual power that you come into this world with is not always the same as what you leave with. And it is true even of humans and creatures that do not experience a change as drastic as your own. But this change is not limited to the short span of days you call 'life.' Your spiritual energy continues to increase after death as well.

"As you well know, when a human dies their mortal death, it is not the end of their existence. Even as their mortal shells decompose and return to the particles that composed it, their _reiatsu_ persists. Separated from its mortal shell, it remains in this world—but not for long. It must go to the place it will await a new body, a new shell. To get there, it is escorted to the afterlife by a death god—such as you Kuchiki Rukia. And in this afterlife, through the experiences it has and the lessons it learns, it continues to grow."

"What do you mean 'await a new body?'" asked Ichigo, his eyebrows drawn together.

"Ah, yes. It is important that you understand something that may at first seem shocking to you. That is, each of you have led many lives, and many afterlives, since the inception of life on this planet. With each cycle, you are reincarnated into new mortal vessels, and with each turn of the moon the lessons you learn and the actions you take in life effect the strength and size of your _reiatsu_, even if the change is small. With the decay of this shell, your _reiatsu_ is taken to kingdom of the pantheon it is most aligned with—another quality that can change in life. Here, it continues to grow and develop—for better or worse—which is reflected in the new mortal coil you receive at the beginning of the new cycle.

"This cyclical nature is important because it is the defining characteristic that distinguishes the two types of spiritual entities classified as "gods" in this universe—the _Divine_, and the _Transient._ Part of you probably sensed this division deep in your bones, from the first time you stood in the presence of Ma'at. Gods _Divine—_Bast, Ma'at, Odin, Apollo, Kali, Quetzalcoatl, myself—we are now as we have always been, though perceptions and practices may have changed; I, for example, have never known an existence other than the one I continue to lead at this moment. Conversely, Gods _Transient_ are the souls of humans that have cycled through enough lives and afterlives, and accumulated enough _reiatsu_, to elevate themselves to stations of power during the 'afterlife' phase of the cycle—such as you and your fellow Shinigami, Kuchiki Rukia."

Ishida looked over to Rukia to see her eyes wide and her mouth slightly open. _It appears they don't teach non-seated officers any of this_, he thought. _I wonder what possible purpose Soul Society could have for keeping their Shinigami ignorant?_ Though, Ishida supposed that Soul Society didn't often burden itself with the requirement to make its decisions and laws _logical._

_Speaking of which_…, thought Ishida.

"I have a question," said Ishida, his tone chilly.

"Of course," said Osiris.

"What marks the beginning of the new cycle? At what point does your _reiatsu _move from its 'afterlife' phase to its 'life' phase?"

"That is an excellent question, Ishida Uryu. _Death_ marks the transition—that is, the death of your afterlife. For example, the Shinigami of Soul Society are fighters as well as guides, and they do not always return home from a battle. The 'death' of those in this form releases their reiatsu to be infused into a new mortal coil, beginning a new cycle."

"I have another question," said Ishida, struggling to keep his voice even. "When a hollow dies—not when it is given a Soul Burial by a Shinigami, but when it is killed, such as by a Quincy," he paused to check if Osiris understood his meaning. Seeing him nod slightly, he continued, "what happens to the reiatsu of the person that hollow used to be?"

"The 'true' death of a hollow is no different than the death of a Shinigami—the _reiatsu_ is released to the next cycle of Earthly life. It _does_ deprive the soul of a learning cycle in the 'afterlife' phase, but despite that hiccup, the cycle continues."

"No," said Rukia, who was staring hard at the metal of the throne with tightly knitted brows and wide eyes. "No, you're wrong. That's not what…" Ishida would have huffed out loud, if such a thing was proper—it wasn't. _She does not sound convinced of that herself. I wonder why she would bother denying it._ Osiris raised an eyebrow and waited for her to continue.

Rukia finally craned her head up to look at the god of Rebirth, and said in a halting voice, "It was…Soul Society was trying to keep the balance,* and it was necessary to-"

"Arrogance!" growled a voice from behind them, sharp with anger. All four travelers turned to face the new arrival. Ishida even twitched his finger to his wrist, reaching for the string of his bow, before forcibly reminding himself what he had decided earlier—_you will _not_ fight the Egyptians in the Hall of Two Truths, damn it!_

Behind them was a man who was very tall, and very thin, though it was clear from the lean muscle and pronounced veins that stood out starkly on his long limbs that his thinness was all whipcord strength and not fragility. His skin was dark, nearly the color of tar, and if it weren't for the brightly colored headdress and white linen around his hips, he might have blended into the darkness of the Hall of Two Truths altogether.

"I well know the atrocities members of Soul Society committed against those humans that were in their care. It is either arrogance or stupidity that you would believe such a flimsy excuse—that of the billions and billions of smaller _ba_ in this world, growing and shrinking and splitting, a few meager handfuls of dead could tip the scales to destruction. That killing _more_ would fix such a thing if it were true." The man was stalking up to them, his path curving around the beautifully wrought golden scales to stand directly in front of them, as if shielding them from the group's view.

"There is no need to be so abrasive," purred Bast's voice from where Ishida could see she had curled at the base of a distant wall, returned to her large cat form. Her voice was scolding, but she hadn't moved her body from a casual lounge. _If she thought there was danger, she'd have risen to her feet, at least. Ma'at ensured us safe travel. And if there's anyone that can't lie, it's Ma'at. _Despite the man's acidic tone, he must not be an actual threat. It did not stop Ishida from tensing his muscles in preparation for action, if necessary. "They are just children, in any regard. Blameless," said the woman.

The man huffed in what could only be described as a canid manner. "Children, yet they spread this nonsense from their lips. Faithfully repeating a ruse meant to glorify the unworthy—"

"Hey!" shouted Ichigo, who had risen to his feet and taken a small step into large space between Rukia and the strange man. _At least he has enough sense to point with his finger and not with his sword, _thought Ishida. If the boy let his anger get control of him now, and accidentally tried to call on some of his power, who knows what would happen in an arena so laden with foreign reiatsu? "I don't know who you are, but Rukia's just explaining what people decades before her did, and why they did it. None of us here are responsible for that. I don't like that it happened, either. But that's not _our _fault. So there's no need for you to go calling your guests names. You should apologize!"

The boy thrust his index finger at the man—_god, _though Ishida, _clearly a god—_in a gesture that he often made when demanding social convention and politeness from an enemy or being that was under no obligation (except the one in Ichigo's head) to comply. This time, the god just let out a hoarse, barking laugh. "I will not apologize," said the god in an even voice, "for pointing out one's ignorance, any more than I think _you_ would, Kurosaki Ichigo. I am not obliged to show kindness to those that propagate nonsense in such a sacred place." Though his voice remained even, there was a sharp edge to it that stood as a pretty good proxy for the baring of canines.

"Anubis,*"said Osiris in a deep, _serious_ voice. Turning his attention back to the preeminent god, Ishida could see that he had risen to his feet. _I can _feel_ that he's risen to his feet._ With that simple change, the spiritual pressure coming from the man had increased greatly. _It's as if his power is as disapproving as his voice._ "By your own reckoning, a loud disagreement with guests is also inappropriate in this, the most sacred of places."

Anubis blinked, and with a slight shake of his head, the snarl that had been written in his features vanished. _"_You are right, Lord Osiris. I…should not have lost my temper," he said, more humbly than Ishida would have thought possible a second ago.

"I will send for you when we are ready to begin the trainings." _A clear dismissal, _thought Ishida. Although he watched carefully, he could not detect defiance or anger on the man's face as he gave a slight bow and retreated from the hall. Only a slight…something…that he could not interpret. It was _not_ lost on Ishida that he did not _actually_ apologize.

The spiritual pressure continued to increase as Osiris slowly stepped from the raised throne and put his bare feet on the stone floor of the hall. _That is why he had us sit at the base of the throne,_ thought Ishida_, to keep the pressure of his power more bearable. The nearer he comes, the heavier it gets. _"You must understand, children, that here in the Hall of Two Truths, we are intimately aware of the nature of what it means to keep a _balance._" He continued past them until he stood before the golden scales. Now that Anubis had gone, everyone's view of glittering scales was restored.

"Death gods may serve many roles. Guide. Guardian…and Judge. Some, such as Shinigami, serve all three simultaneously. They guard the living from the destruction wrought by what you call Hollows. And through a Soul Burial using their zanpakuto, they both judge the _ba_ and send them to their proper realm to experience their afterlife.

"In our pantheon, Anubis and Ma'at are responsible for judging the _ba_ of all the mortals that have entrusted themselves to us. Anubis is also our patron for the preparation of the flesh of the deceased,* and a guardian of the dead and their tombs. He is perhaps…the most sensitive of us to violations of the dignity of the dead."

Osiris turned his eyes to Rukia. "Although it has clearly been kept secret from you, Kuchiki Rukia, what was done to the Quincy is well known in the Realms. Not only that their lives were taken, but what happened to the bodies of some of them after death.*"

When Rukia's mouth opened, the word "what" clearly forming on her lips, Osiris shook his head sharply. "I will not speak of it in this place, before these scales. But know this: because we are not allowed to interfere in the workings of other pantheons, Anubis was never able to…express his displeasure to representatives of Soul Society before this time." His dark eyes slid over everyone. "He was wrong to take his aggression out on you, and wrong to disrespect you in our home. I apologize on his behalf. Though…I hope you have learned something from this incident."

_I certainly have,_ thought Ishida. Just as the gears in his mind started to turn, trying to connect the jumbled pieces—_why would they slaughter the Quincy if it wasn't _necessary, _as they had always claimed_?—he quashed the thoughts down. _You cannot allow yourself to become obsessed with this now. Inoue's life is at stake. The massacre of the Quincy is a mystery that isn't going anywhere. Focus on the situation threatening _current_ lives._

He shook his head slightly to clear away the stray thoughts and emotions to catch Rukia looking in his direction. Her eyes quickly tracked to the floor, and he could all but read sadness and anger battling on her face.

A quick look to Ichigo, who had been uncharacteristically quiet since his exchange with the death god, nearly shocked him. Not because his gaze was remote and distant, or because his face was set in a scowl, but because he was…_sweating._ After a brief second of confusion, the answer was obvious. _It's Osiris. The proximity of his presence. With his outrageous _reiatsu_, the pressure is probably much worse for him than anyone else._

Osiris turned away from the scales. "Much has been learned today. I know that each of you must have many questions, and I will answer as many as I am able, but I think it best that you digest both these thoughts and some food before we begin the training exercises we have planned for you."

Though clouded with many complicated emotions, the faces of all four travelers very clearly read, "_Finally_," at the mention of training.

Bast, once again in her woman form, slid up beside the scales where Osiris still stood. "I will take you for a meal, and then you'll each be paired with a god to assess your fighting styles and capabilities in your least powerful states." She smiled toothily, "While you are here, we'll primarily be working on _endurance_—something you'll need to survive the journey _to_ Hueco Mundo, let alone through it."

"Who will our opponents be?" asked Chad.

Bast motioned for all four guests to follow her as she started slinking towards the hallway that they'd used to enter the Hall of Two Truths. As they walked away, Ishida looked back at the shrinking form of Osiris, who they really hadn't said a formal good-bye to, and saw him staring at the golden scales, lost in thought.

"Now why would I spoil that surprise?" Bast said, her smile audible.

_**

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Nights Since Orihime's Disappearance: 4 / Soul Society**_

She tossed and turned in the small room they had found for her in the 11th division—private only by virtue of the fact that she was the only female being housed by the division that was not a visiting goddess or an officer. Despite Tatsuki's desire for restful, dreamless sleep, nightmares crept into her unconscious mind as if they had been hiding under her narrow cot, waiting to crawl in her ear the moment she dropped off.

_She hadn't had to search long to find the boy. Somehow, when she didn't see him at school, she could just _feel_ that he would be here. And although she didn't want him to think she was all worried about him (even though she was), the thought of him spending so much time alone in the very place that his mom died bothered her. _

His father must be so sad, too_, thought the young Tatsuki. She knew what death was—had seen the dead bodies of two of her grandparents laid out in funeral parlors, and had felt that keen and surreal sense of loss that accompanied the experience. And yet…even at this young age, she could sense how the two things were incomparable. Even to her, a girl on the fringe of the Kurosakis' lives, Masaki's death was a jarring event—out of the natural order of things. Displaced._

_The girl tightened her grip on her school bag. _I bet what he needs is to have someone around who isn't displaced,_ she thought. His dad and his tiny sisters were probably all beside themselves with grief, she reasoned. But she was still the same old Tatsuki. _Maybe that will help?

_Her intuition as to his location proved to be correct; there he was hunched by the riverbank, squatting down and unmoving. Long minutes she watched him from the sidewalk, nervous about approaching _(What if he gets mad? I'd be mad if someone saw _me_ like that.) _until finally she decided that it was better for him to have to hide embarrassment than hold in all that other stuff he must be feeling all by himself._

_She approached him quietly, but making purposeful noise so that she wouldn't surprise him; she wanted him to know she was there (for him)._

"_Ichigo?" _Know that I'm here,_ she was thinking._

_The boy was silent, but a ringing sound, as dull and hollow as the sound inside a seashell, had begun in her ears._

"_Ichigo?"_

_Instead of an answer, the boy started making choking noises, and Tatsuki ran around to face him. She was not prepared for the sight that greeted her. His hands were clutched to his chest, blood pulsing from between his child-sized fingers._

"_Ichigo?" The rough sounds from his throat continued unabated, and the dull ringing in her ears grew in intensity. "Why won't you tell me what's wrong?" she screamed. "JUST TELL ME WHAT'S WRONG!" _

_She snatched at his hands, prying them up and away from his body, and all at once she could see it; a gaping hole, perfectly circular and terribly empty, right in the place his heart should be._

_A terrifying realization washed over her, and she looked up at his face. But instead of seeing the eyes of the boy she had known since almost before she could remember, the eyes that looked back at her were amber on black, glowing like a pair of furiously hot coals. Color fled from his face, paler than a corpse, even as his mouth twitched up into a psychotic-looking smile._

"_Tatsuki," someone else's voice rasped out of Ichigo's mouth as his hair grew long, too long, flowing and coiling of its own accord. And as it grew and slithered around her wrists, her feet, she realized that what she had thought was the sound of him choking was sickening, gleeful laughter._

The uncomfortable ringing in her ears increased to a fevered, painful crescendo that jarred her teeth and drove her straight out of unconsciousness. The shock of transition was too much, and in the panicked flailing she could not control upon waking up, she crashed out of her narrow cot and onto the floor of the room she had been staying in.

And not a moment too soon. For no sooner had she comprehended her own impact with the floor than a long-bladed axe smashed the cot to pieces, showering her with splinters.

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_Author's Note 2:_ I'm going to tell you, I've been working on this chapter for so long, I can't tell if anyone's OOC. So if they are, please tell me, cuz the only way I can fix it in future chapters is if it's pointed out. I've already started working on the next chapter, which will start with a Keigo POV (!) and focus almost the entire time on the gang in Soul Society. It is the goal that by the end of the next chapter, the "powers" of all three will be revealed.

Let it be known that big YOU'RE AWESOME's go to Dreamweaver Mirar, dragonlayer, InfiniteDragon, Nachtweiss, Xoroth, Tan o' War, Sironblood1, Ummm, Master Bombadil, fluco99, Revolation, The Dimension Crossing Mew, School boy humor, Lady Drama, and killerpoison for taking the time to review, and to everyone that's favorited or alerted this story (even when it was on such a long hiatus). You guys make me blush.

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_Mythology Notes: Please note, these aren't as detailed as I'd like but they should give you "the gist" of what you need to know for the story, at least._

**Hall of Two Truths: **This is the place in Duat in which the Egyptian death gods judge the dead. There are many, many versions of how that judgment takes place. A simple one, and the one I'm using for the purposes of this story, is that Ma'at and Anubis weigh the dead person's heart against Ma'at's feather. The heart goes in one pan of the scales, the feather in the other. If the heart is lighter than the feather, the person passes judgment. If the heart is heavier than the feather (in other words, heavy with _guilt_), the person is punished. (I'm being vague because I'm going to go into the results of judgment later). I some versions, Osiris presides over these judgments. In others, a panel of 45 gods act a judges as well.

**Osiris: **Just as he says, he's the Egyptian god of life, death, and rebirth. While he's not the head god of the entire pantheon, he could be considered their foremost death god. He came to preside over the Egyptian underworld after being killed (and chopped into pieces) by his brother Set. His sister/wife, Isis, collected up the pieces and used magic to resurrect him. After his experience being dead and subsequently resurrected, he became the Lord of the Underworld. (That's the ULTRA brief version. I do intend to talk about it more later).

**Earth & Sky: **Osiris is the son of the Egyptian Earth god, Geb, and the goddess of the Sky, Nut.

**Osiris's Green Skin:** The color green is associated with rebirth in the ancient Egypt, in reference to the cycles of vegetation. Because of his role as a god of life, death, and rebirth, Osiris is often portrayed with green skin. (But even though he was resurrected from the dead and has green skin, you should not consider him a zombie ).

**Your ancestors and their cousins: **Your ancestors=ancient _Homo sapiens, _their cousins=any number of related hominid species, such as Neanderthals, which share common ancestors with the human species but are _not_ humans. Get this—archeological evidence suggests that some of these species probably practiced religions of their own, as evidenced by their artwork (cave paintings) and the method in which they buried their dead (in specific positions and with specific objects).

**Nitrogen:** Osiris is talking about the Nitrogen Cycle. Without going into too much detail, the enormous energy produced by lightning allows nitrogen to combine with oxygen in the atmosphere. This is an important step in getting nitrogen into a form that can be used by plants, which then go on to feed animals, and so on, and so forth. Like lightning, Osiris is saying that gods are something vast and powerful that are playing an enormous role in the life cycle, but did not create this cycle themselves.

**Abstract Ponderings: **Just a note—this is _not_ to say that pondering the origin or meaning of things is bad (I'm actually a scientist, so I make a living doing just that). It's just more of a…_human_ pursuit. Osiris doesn't question how he came to be because it's not in his nature, like it's in ours.

**Keep the Balance: **Recall that in the chapters we met Ishida for the first time, Rukia was told by Urahara (and then told Ichigo) that the Quincy were killed en masse because the Quincy technique kills the hollows instead of sending them to Soul Society, and the "killing of hollows would destroy the balance" and destroy the world (sorry, I don't have the pages to quote). In terms of this story, that was a poor excuse that was used for an unknown reason.

**Anubis: **Anubis is the Egyptian jackal god of mummification, which is the preferred Egyptian method for burying the dead. He is also associated with the protection of the dead and their resting places, and, as mentioned above, assists in the judging of the dead. In terms of this story, it is because Anubis is very closely tied with the respect and proper treatment of the dead that he has a heated exchange over the treatment of the Quincy—most specifically because it is suggested by Mayuri that he experimented on the bodies/souls of dead Quincy during his fight with Ishida in Soul Society (during the rescue Rukia arc). I don't have the pages to quote, but he directly says to Ishida that, "he's learned all he can about the Quincy" and specifically says he arranged for Shinigami to help Ishida's grandfather too late so that he could examine the body. This would be directly against everything Anubis values.

**What happened to their bodies:** See the part about Mayuri above.


	11. Stronger

_Disclaimer:_ I do not own any of the characters in the following work. All recognizable anime characters belong to Tite Kubo. All others characters are adapted from a diverse spread of cultural and mythological lore. I am making no profit from this story.

_Author's Note 1:_ This chapter is…well…very cruel to Tatsuki. Please hold out for the end, since I specifically extended the chapter so that we get to the "payoff" so to speak—the return on a lot of suffering.

This chapter skips some time from the end of the last chapter. It is now mid-day on the morning that Tatsuki awoke from her nightmare.

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**Chapter 11: Stronger**

_I know that that don't kill me_

_Can only make me stronger_

_I need you to hurry up now_

'_Cuz I can't wait much longer_

-Stronger

by Kanye West (quoting Nietzsche), ft. Daft Punk

* * *

_**Nights Since Orihime's Disappearance: 4 / Soul Society—Shinigami Academy**_

Keigo didn't like it.

And he didn't just mean the bland, tasteless rice in front of him. Though, he didn't like _that_ either.

_Just your luck, Keigo,_ he thought to himself as he pushed the disgusting food around on his plate. _Worst Super Power Ever. Idiot._

"It's not that bad, Keigo," said Mizuiro, clearly sensing that his distaste wasn't just for the Shinigami Academy's dining hall fare.

"Pft," he said. His usual over-exuberance was muted by his exhaustion and disappointment. _And_ the fact that it was just him and Mizuiro, and even if he were to be loud and obnoxious now, the other boy would know it for the cover it was and call him on it.

"Sit there moping if you want to, but I'm sure it's going to be extremely useful when the time comes. And much easier to manage than…whatever it is _I've_ got going on."

Still not mollified, Keigo gave a petulant shrug of his shoulders and looked around the Shinigami Academy's equivalent of their school's cafeteria. Despite what Keigo thought was a decidedly "old-school" feel to Soul Society—what with the kimonos and katanas and everything—the dining hall was not so very different in the basics. Long wooden tables, their tops worn smooth with countless centuries of use, stretched across an open room filled with the noise of energetic students recounting the day's trials. The only difference, besides the dress code, was that cadets on kitchen duty brought you the day's meal at your seat instead of making everyone stand in a line in front of heating trays. _Not that the service makes up for the tastelessness. _Keigo suspected the duty was some form of punishment.

After their first (_terrifying_) session that morning—where, to Keigo's profound relief _and_ disbelief, they had managed to unlock the "purpose" of their newly realized reiatsu—their caretakers had summarily dumped them in the cafeteria. The one that had no hair, but that was definitely _not bald_, had said, "Get some food into those scrawny frickin' bodies while we figure out what the fuck to make of this." They both then promptly disappeared.

Keigo glanced around the cafeteria, looking for the third of their number. _I wonder how Arisawa is doing, _he thought to himself. If there was one human person that would be able to take care of themselves in this place, he thought it would definitely be her. It didn't matter that she was shorter than him, that girl _scared _him. So much so, it was almost difficult to see her as a _girl. _Girls were…soft. In a good way. In a way that made you want to reach out and touch their skin to see if it felt as soft as it looked. No matter how Keigo turned it over in his head, and no matter how long and smooth her legs were in her school uniform (because _of course_ he would notice), there was no way to reconcile "soft" with anything he knew about Tatsuki.

And he wasn't even afraid to admit his fear of her, because there wasn't a high school student across Karakura that would make fun of him for it. Not everybody liked her, and he knew for a fact that a lot of people said a lot of nasty things about her, but they _never_ said them to her face. And in Keigo's mind, that meant something. It was something about her he envied; it didn't exactly feel good to know that nobody thought twice about laughing in _your_ face.

_She's probably already unlocked some weird, superhuman fighting ability and is ready to charge off to…wherever that place is those Hollow things are. _To be honest, one of his biggest fears as he had struggled to sleep the night before had been that he and Mizuiro would show snail-pace development—or worse yet, _no_ development—while she streaked ahead of them in progress. _If that happened, we'd either be responsible for holding her back, or she'd just leave us behind. Like everyone else did._ He'd never been particularly close with Tatsuki, but there were two things he decided he didn't want to experience again any time soon, and that was feeling like dead weight, and being left behind.

A slight rustling sound next to him made him look to his side, and he nearly leapt straight out of his skin when he saw Tatsuki crouched next to him on the bench. Her eyes were as big as saucers and she was furtively looking around like a thief squatting in a dark alley, listening to the sound of police shouting.

"ARISA—" he raised his voice to its customary piercing wail only to have the greeting lodge in his throat when Arisawa clamped her hand over the front of his face and dug her fingers painfully into his jaw.

"SHH!" she hissed, though it sounded more like a growl, low in her throat. She crouched impossibly lower in the seat, and kept her eyes moving. "How'd you get that food?" she asked in the quietest voice he thought a person was capable of making sound hostile.

"Mmm-hmphf!" said Keigo, his eyes watering under the force of her pinching fingers. Silently, she released his face. It was not lost on Keigo that she didn't apologize.

Before he could open his mouth again, Mizuiro stepped in to explain. "Cadets bring the food, Tatsuki," he said in a voice just above a whisper. "And, could you please explain why we've got to be quiet?"

"Because I don't want to draw attention to myself," she said curtly, not looking at him. Without asking, she dug her hand into Keigo's unfinished meal and brought it to her mouth. _Something is off about her_, thought Keigo.

Mizuiro smiled brightly, "See, Keigo, there's something your ability would be good for."

With her hand still half-full of rice, Tatsuki went perfectly still. Eyes wide and white around the edges snapped to Mizuiro. "What?"

"Oh, yeah," said Mizuiro. "I've been wondering what your ability is, Tatsuki. Did you figure it out yet?"

"You…," it looked as though her face couldn't decided if it wanted to broadcast disbelief, disappointment, or rage. It settled somewhere between all three. "You have powers? You figured them out?"

"Yeah…" Mizuiro said, slowly. _Cautiously_, thought Keigo. "I…I take it you're still working on it?" The tread of his words were like that of a man walking on rotten ice. _I don't blame him._

"_How?_" she snarled. In that moment, Keigo had never been more frightened of this girl in his entire life. "How did you _do_ it?"

_Geez,_ thought Keigo. He knew that she wanted powers, and that she wanted them bad, but this…desperation she was putting out seemed…_weird._

"Well," Mizuiro started, looking nervous, "this morning, Madarme-san and Ayasegawa-san took us out into the forest around Soul Society. Ayasegawa said that the best way to see what we could pull out of ourselves was to put us…in a situation of extreme duress."

Just thinking about it made Keigo want to throw up. "_Extreme duress, _sure. Then the other one stalked us through the forest, laughing like a blood-thirsty maniac." A shiver ran down his spine.

Arisawa just stared at them, her expression angry. "And?"

Mizuiro shrugged. "We can't really tell you much about the 'how,' Arisawa. Madarme-san chased us through the forest while we ran terrified. I don't know for how long. We split up for a while, but then eventually ran into each other again in the confusion."

"Literally," said Keigo sourly. He had tried to dart around a particularly large tree not knowing that Mizuiro was already hiding behind it. The collision had knocked them both senseless for a good minute.

Somehow, Mizuiro managed a small smile at the memory. "When we sorted ourselves out, Madarme-san was standing over us." His smile disappeared. "With a sword."

Remembering somehow made Keigo angry at himself. _When you see scenes like that in a movie, you always think to yourself, 'Now's the time for the snappy dialogue!' or 'Stand up to him! If you're going to die, die like a badass!' _But nothing, absolutely nothing in movies had prepared him for the flailing fear that the man's smile filled him with as he brandished the sword. And it wasn't just that he looked like he wanted to kill them—Keigo had been able to _feel _it, the crushing weight of killing intent that had blanketed them both like a rising ocean. In that moment, he had known three things with absolutely certainty: 1) that he and his best friend were about to die, 2) that it was all his fault for trying to cut behind the wrong damned tree, and 3) that there was absolutely nothing he could do to stop this man.

"And then suddenly, he glanced at me and got a strange look on his face," Mizuiro was saying. "Just like that, from blood-thirsty-killer to confused."

Arisawa's look was so intense, Keigo thought she might be able to melt metal with it, if she tried. If it had been under any other circumstances, he would have laughed at the fact that she still had a handful of uneaten rice, and it was getting more and more smushed as she tightened her fist. This one time, though, he decided to think before he did something foolish. "Well? What was it?"

Mizuiro got a look on his face that Keigo recognized. It was his I-Know-I'm-Good-With-Words-But-I-Have-No-Idea-How-To-Tell-You-This face. "I'm not quite sure myself, Arisawa. Madarme-san just stood there, then called over Ayasegawa-san, and they talked. Then Ayasegawa pulled out his sword and almost stabbed me in the chest." The color had drained a little from his face as he told this part of the story. "I really thought he was going to do it. The sword tip even cut my shirt and the first layer of skin! But at the last second he stopped, and pulled back with a frown.

"Apparently, in the moment when Madarme-san came upon us under that tree, he said that my reiastu felt…_different_ for a moment. Like…like Ayasegawa's. Not exactly the same, but enough to give him pause. And then…when he called over Ayasegawa the other guy couldn't feel it, but when he went to cut me…for a split second, my reiatsu felt like Madarme's."

"So…you're telling me that you've manifested the ability to make your reiatsu feel like someone else's?" said Arisawa. Keigo thought she looked almost disappointed. _I'm sure she was expecting some sort of fighting ability. After all, that's what _she_ wants._

Mizuiro made a small, self-depreciating smile and a shrug, "That's what it looks like, Arisawa. Our instructors left us here to eat while they go off to consult with the others and figure out if they've seen anything like this before."

Arisawa turned her eyes to Keigo, somehow calmer but still on edge. "And you?"

Keigo knew a lot of people thought he was loud, clumsy, and goofy just for laughs and attention. And the truth was, 90% of the time that was probably true. Keigo didn't really feel like he had a lot to recommend himself, but at the very least, the loud, obnoxious guy was hard to ignore. The other 10% of the time, though, it was because there were some emotional outbursts that he really, truly just couldn't hold in. "THEY DIDN'T SEE ME!" he said though big watery eyes.

Tatsuki reached out and clamped her rice-free hand back over his mouth. "If you don't shut up and keep it down like I told you to, no one with see _or_ hear you ever again, you moron!" she 'yelled' in a stage whisper.

"It is true, though," said Mizuiro. "After Madarme and Ayasegawa had finished with me, I said, 'What about Keigo?' And they both looked over at him, then looked at each other. They both had just…forgot he was there too. They could _see_ him. But they said it…just didn't really seem relevant." Mizuiro smiled, "Like the tree. The tree was there behind us, but it didn't matter that it was there!"

Tatsuki had kept her hand secured over Keigo's mouth while Mizuiro explained. Now she turned to look at him with an incredulous expression.

"Your power is that people ignore you?" she asked, sounding honestly surprised.

Keigo could not respond with her claws in his face, but his eyes got bigger and more watery.

"Isn't that, like, your worst fear?"

He ripped his face away and wailed, "ISN'T IT THE WORST THING YOU'VE EVER HEARD, ARISAWA?"

"I told you to shut up, you idiot, or she'll-"

She stopped mid-sentence, and her body stiffened as if an electric current was running through it.

"Arisa—"

The girl leapt off her seat and rolled across the table bare seconds before an axe buried itself in the bench where she had been sitting, and the thud of the impact reverberated through Keigo like a seismic aftershock. Before he even had time to yelp and squirm at the thought of how close the blade had come to severing his leg, a rough leather boot was planted firmly on the bench, and the axe was wrenched away in a shower of splinters that forced him to shield his eyes.

When he opened them, he was certain he was staring death in the face for the second time that day. Granted, death looked a little better this time around, since it appeared more like a warrior woman whose skirt he could _almost_ see up as she stood there, her boot still planted on the bench beside him, and not as a bald man. But the crushing force of pure killing intent rolling off this woman nearly ruined the effect.

Nearly, that is. Since he figured he was about to die anyway, Keigo thought it was entirely appropriate to take a good look at his dispatcher. She was not what he would call a great beauty, but neither was she unattractive. _Striking_, he thought, pleased with himself for the clever pun, and briefly disappointed that there was no one else to appreciate it. Long hair that was not quite red, or blond, or light brown, but that might be any of those three was tied up in a knot at the back of her head that was coming loose. The pale leg exposed above the top of the tall, heavy boots and the bottom of the hide skirt she wore was shapely, though noticeably scarred in more than one place.

_Speaking of things not soft. _Keigo was left with the gut-reaction that while Tatsuki was a woman who could beat him senseless, Hraust was a woman who could grind him up into a blood and bone-powder paste, without ever changing the expression on her face. Who _would_ do so, if given a sufficient reason.

Plates and tableware had been crunched or scattered as Tatsuki had availed herself of the table top, and when she gained her footing on the other side, Kegio could see she had come up with a shard of a broken glass in one hand and one of the thin metal trays the food had been served on in the other. She fell into a defensive stance, clearly trying to keep the table between them.

The Valkyrie surged over the table, swinging the axe in a vicious downwards arc. Keigo didn't even have time to register that the woman was moving before she had completed the swing, but Tatsuki had already lurched down and away, and the axe lodged in the bench on the opposite side.

As Hraust's feet struck the floor on the descent, Tatsuki lunged low with the glass shard, trying to catch the Valkyrie in the back of the leg. Fast as Tatsuki was, the blow never landed; before the glass could cut skin, Hraust had lifted her leg out of the way and brought it down in a hammering kick. Tatsuki only just managed to bring the metal tray in front of her to absorb some of the impact.

As the fight went on, Keigo stood transfixed. He had known that Arisawa was a martial artist, and moreover, that she was an _excellent_ martial artist. But knowing a fact and seeing it in action were two different things. While he had heard about her victories on the competition circuit, the only fighting he had ever really _seen_ her do was the countless number of times she had struck Honsho for trying to fondle Inoue, and that didn't seem like it counted at all.

Watching her now, though, he realized how little he had _understood_. Her movements were as fluid and graceful as a dancer; it was like he was watching her arms and legs sing, in harmony no less.

He snorted at his own thought. _I should save the stupid flowery thoughts for…well, never. If her body's singing, it's a song of terror. _

Keigo had seen gazelles gracefully evading lions on the National Geographic Channel; their leaps and bounds were a thing of beauty. But there was inevitably a moment on those shows where no matter how agile and nimble the antelope, the predator eventually had its due. _And Tatsuki's movements are beginning to slow_, he though grimly. _And her eyes. She's determined, but she's getting tired._

And that's when something in is mind clicked. _She's been doing this all day._ Looking closer, he could see the beginnings of bruises darkening all over her exposed skin, too dark to be only minutes old. And her earlier strange behavior, insisting that he and Mizuiro keep it down as she crouched low in her seat—she'd been trying to avoid the Valkyrie long enough to eat.

She wasn't getting slower and more sloppy just because _this_ fight was wearing her down—she'd been fielding a constant onslaught of brutality since whenever her morning had started.

Hraust hadn't even bothered to reclaim the axe. Where Tatsuki was putting every scrap of energy she had into maximizing her speed and agility, the Valkyrie just absorbed her attacks as if they were made of smoke and returned hammering blows that were as devastating as they were precise.

As he watched, Tatsuki miscalculated a dodge and the woman slithered behind her as if she hadn't a bone in her body. "Pathetic," she said, and casually grabbed the girl by the back of her shirt and flung her bodily into the nearest wall. Wood splintered and paper crunched, and for an awful moment Keigo worried that a wooden shard my have pierced her, but the girl managed to get scraped and bleeding hands underneath herself to mitigate the rebounding fall.

It was only in the silence after the crashing impact that Keigo remembered that he was in a crowded room.

Dozens and dozens of cadets were either seated or standing in the cafeteria, and some of the lower ranked, "seated" officers were present to boot, but though all their eyes were on the two women in the center of the room, not a sound issued from the audience as the Valkyrie casually approached the girl struggling to rise.

_This is what death must sound like_, thought Keigo, horrified for his friend, yet frozen in place and gaping like the rest. _A silence so full of terrible knowledge it is practically a cacophony. _Despite this abysmal line of thought, Keigo did not actually think the Northern woman would kill Tatsuki. After all, she was her designated teacher. Right?

_Or is that a lie I am telling myself, because I know I cannot help her? _he thought, recalling the woman's words to Tatsuki the day before. "_I will do my best to grind you to dust beneath my heel," _she had said, or something like looked at all the other stationary, grim faces. _Why doesn't anybody _do_ anything? Aren't they warriors?_

Tatsuki looked ragged in every way a human could be, but the eyes in her haggard face were still defiant as she gained her feet. It was nothing at all, scarcely the work of breathing, for Hraust to boot her in the solar plexus and send her sprawling. She did not rise again.

The Valkyrie looked down at her, at the limbs still shaking with the effort of trying to push her self up.

"I see why you were left behind," she said, winter in her voice.

She walked to the table where she had left her axe lodged, and yanked if free with one graceful motion. "No one touch her," she said over her shoulder, to the rest of the staring room. "No one feed her. She will feed herself, or she will starve."

Keigo was not sure that the woman had the authority to command the assembled academy Shinigami, low-ranking as they all might be, but none of the cadets seemed willing to contradict her, even after she had left the room. Slowly, the room collectively turned back to their meals and dutifully ignored the battered girl, despite their obvious discomfort. _It is amazing what you can ignore when you're told to,_ he thought cynically.

Keigo and Mizuiro approached slowly, moving to crouch over her. "Arisawa?" asked Mizuiro, reaching out a hand. _To check her injuries_, thought Keigo.

"Don't…touch me!" she gasped between labored breaths, managing to knock Mizuiro's hand away at the wrist. Both boys leaned back from her, quickly but cautiously, as if realizing the suspicious package they had been examining indeed contained a bomb. "You heard…her," the girl finished.

"But Arisawa," started Keigo.

"Don't," the girl said, managing, with effort, to sit up, her breath coming a little easier. "Just don't. If this is what it takes, then this is what it takes. If that bitch thinks she can break me, let her try." _And watch her fail_, said the snarl plastered on the girl's mouth.

Neither of the boys had anything to say to that.

Shaky as a newborn colt, Tatsuki rose, gingerly walked to the table, and began to eat some of the smashed food that had been scattered all over it in the attack. Keigo and Mizuiro followed her to the table and sat next to her, sans appetite, watching her pointedly ignore their silent, concerned gazes.

_Ironic,_ thought Keigo, _I never thought that when I discovered my powers, I'd feel _more_ helpless._

* * *

_**Nights Since Orihime's Disappearance: 4 / Soul Society**_

"Practice,"the bald man had called it. _Just what kind of teacher makes students sneak around Shinigami Captains' offices as practice?_ Keigo was beginning to suspect that Madarme-san was either _trying_ to get him killed—just so that he wouldn't have to deal with him anymore—or was just shouting out the first instructions that came into his head.

Keigo might have objected more strenuously if the feathers-dude hadn't agreed…with logic. _Your ability first came out because you felt that your life was in danger. It stands to reason that it might be easier to keep honing it in situations where you feel threatened. So unless you want to run blindly through the forest all night while Ikkaku chases you with all manner of sharp and deadly objects, I suggest you do as your instructor says._ Keigo decided the smirk the man wore as he said that last bit was completely uncalled for.

Thus it was that the black of night found Keigo skulking around the clearing that housed the headquarters of the Captains and their respective Lieutenants, with instructions to bring home at least one overheard conversation. _Don't freak out, Keigo. You can do this. It's as easy as listening._ Assuming, of course, that at least one of the thirteen Captains was in their office this late at night, talking loudly enough to be heard. Absurdly, he found himself both hoping and fearing that the offices were all empty so that he wouldn't have to go through with this ridiculous task. _Thirteen captains, thirteen office windows, _he thought as he crept forward, spying one that was casting light onto the ground outside. _ What an unlucky number…for _me_._

He wasn't sure if he should be surprised that only one office was in use, or that any office was at all. Were most of the officers workaholics? _Why would anybody be up working this late, anyway? Well, I guess that's what I'm here to find out. _Not wanting to linger in the area any more than strictly necessary, he quickly crept up to the lit window and crouched under the sill. Luckily—though perhaps that was debatable—the glass pane was slightly ajar.

"…in the dining area today," he heard a refined, but unfamiliar male voice say. "You agreed to help gauge her abilities and assess what special abilities she possesses, if any. I had assumed it was clear that she is considered a ward of Soul Society, and that we are therefore also responsible for her well-being while she is here."

_He's talking about Tatsuki! _Keigo realized, and closely followed that thought with, _Then that means, that woman…_

"Her well-being, now and in the future, is best ensured by giving her the power to protect herself. You were present, as I was, when Urahara explained what he knew about the conditions of the other two children," said the Valkyrie. Her tone clearly stated that she did not like her methods questioned. "_In both cases, they manifested powers when they believed they were about to die.*"_

"Yes, I recall," said the man, his voice not conceding an inch. "And yet the students of Madarme and Ayasegawa have already manifested abilities, without having been beaten half to death in front of a crowd of cadets, and without causing considerable destruction to Seireitei property in the process." He did not go on to add that not even that had worked for Tatsuki, but even Keigo could hear it implied there at the end, plain as day.

Hraust just snorted, "Yes, a wonder—boys with no combat training were easily convinced that they might die. I am breathless with surprise, Kuchiki-san." A brief, tense silence followed, until the Valkyrie heaved a sigh and slid her tone from something sharp and bristling to something slightly more conciliatory. "It is different with the girl, Kuchiki-san. She has been shaped and molded for fighting from a young age."

"I understand that it is harder to frighten such a person—"

"You _do not_ understand," she said, her voice intense, but not hostile. "She is terrified, and desperate, but to believe that she will die, she must first believe that all the strength and skill she has spent her life building has _failed_ her, completely. That no matter what scraps of will and resistance and cleverness she can pull forth, it will be in vain. That defeat is as guaranteed and inevitable as an oncoming storm." She paused, briefly, and in that moment, Keigo wondered who the "she" in those sentences really was. "Believing you are to die is the abandonment of _hope_, Kuchiki-san. And as I'm sure you yourself would not accept death until you were actually lying dead, so too this girl will not capitulate. Unlike the gentle girl with the fae sprites Urahara spoke of, unlike the two boys you have thrown in my face, you and I and Arisawa have ingrained within ourselves the idea that even in the last second, we may snatch victory from the jaws of defeat." Keigo imagined he could hear her fist clenching.

The man—Captain Kuchiki, Kegio surmised—was quiet for a second, "You are saying that in order to convince her she will die, and thus manifest her powers, you actually need to kill her, or come as close to it as possible."

The Valkyrie's shrug was almost audible. "It is in no one's best interest for her to actually die, least of all her own. But she looked me in the eyes and accepted my terms, Kuchiki-san, a contract as good as a blood-oath. If she has powers to manifest, this is the only way to bring them forth…and she _wants_ them."

They were both silent for a long while, until the man said, "You will do what you can to ensure the girl's life." The statement was a command, but the barest hint of a question floated between the words as well, and Keigo wondered if the man felt discomfort at giving the woman orders that he didn't want to broadcast.* It was also not lost on him that Kuchiki-san hadn't asked her to ensure the girl's "health," "safety," or anything like that, either.

"Of course," said Hraust, her voice suggesting that that was obvious—which Keigo thought was incredulous, considering what happened in the dining hall.

"Then proceed. However, whenever possible, avoid public localities. Sooner or later, a cadet will overcome their intimidation—both of disobeying orders _and_ of you—and will attempt to intervene. And I am sure you can appreciate all the headaches that such a altercation will cause." He paused for a moment. "If my Lieutenant had not been in my presence when we received the report, he would have rushed headlong to stop you."

"And I would have sent him back to you with all his limbs still attached, Kuchiki-san. You need not be so circular in your questions and implications. If you want my word, I will give it. I will not grievously harm anyone that tries to intervene on Arisawa's behalf, even if it is a young Lieutenant that makes foolish comments. Nor would I be so petty as to use a misguided effort at protection as an excuse to revenge myself upon such a person." Her smile was sharp and audible, "Besides, watching him awkwardly try to avoid me is more than enough to make up for such a minor insult."

"Very well," said Kuchiki, and Keigo thought he sounded markedly relieved, though it was through an effort to hide it. _He must have _really_ thought his Lieutenant and Hraust would come to blows over Tatsuki_, though Keigo. _I wonder what insult they're talking about._ "That is all. You are dismissed."

Without further words exchanged, Keigo heard the door open and close. As quietly as possible, he got up from his spot under the window and rushed out of the clearing; he did not want to risk Hraust spotting him when she left headquarters if he lingered.

When he was back into the area that had not been deemed "off limits" to the visiting humans, he started on the path towards the quarters he shared with Mizuiro and tried to sort out everything he'd heard.

_Okay, Item #1, Scary Snow Lady is not a complete raving bitch, and she actually _does_ want Tatsuki to succeed. _That, at least, was something. Somehow, the memory of Tatsuki getting the crap beat out of her felt worse—and was more shaming, since he had done nothing to help—when he had feared Hraust was just a sadist. Now that he knew she really was trying to help, something about the whole thing seemed more productive than it had before.

_Item #2, in order for Tatsuki to realize her powers, she has to think she's going to die. _Was that how it was for him? He supposed so. _Me and Mizuiro both, I thought that we were going to be splattered all over the trees, and there wasn't a damn thing I could to do about it._ Suddenly, Keigo had a new respect for Tatsuki, if she had got through what he had seen, and more that he hadn't, and _had not _felt the same kind of hopelessness he had.

But that was the answer, then, wasn't it? _All I have to do it tell her what she needs to…_ But no, that wouldn't work. It was like some messed-up chicken-or-the-egg riddle. If she _knew_ that Hraust was trying to get her to think her death was immanent, she'd also know that her life really _wasn't_ in danger. _If she knows what the game is, there's no way she can ever win it._

Which meant that even with everything he now knew about her situation, the only thing Keigo could do to help Tatsuki was keep his mouth shut about it.

Mentally, he sighed. _The Amazing Keigo...to be neither seen, nor heard._

* * *

_**Nights Since Orihime's Disappearance: 5 / Soul Society**_

She wasn't getting stronger. That much, she could feel.

For a full day and a half now, she had been under a constant state of ambush from…what was the Valkyrie? Her instructor? The woman had yet to teach her anything. The phrases "guide" and "caretaker" seemed equally laughable.

She did not know what she had been expecting, but it had not been this. _Perhaps I should have_. _'It will be brutal in a way you cannot anticipate,' she had said._ Ever since she had awoken from that nightmare about Ichigo, and survived being sliced in half by an axe only by sheer luck, she had been struggling for her very life, for nearly every moment.

The attacks came violently and without warning, just as it had that first time, the morning before. There weren't clocks here, so it was hard to tell how regular they were, or how long they or the tension-filled breaks in between them lasted, but fact that an attack _would come_ was certain—and it kept her nerves constantly twisted up tight, never knowing when it was safe to rest.

_That's because it's not. Ever. It's not safe to rest._

Perhaps it would be different if she new what the Valkyrie expected from her. The woman had not said a word but to insult her since she had departed the meeting hall two days ago. At first, she had thought that Hraust was gauging her strength, speed, and agility. But her continued assaults proved too crushing, too overpoweringly violent for them to have been effective in gauging ability or skill. She had considered that maybe the point was to try and land a significant blow or draw blood on the more powerful demi-god—some sort of test to pass—but when she had finally managed to find an edge suitable enough to use as a weapon, the woman had lazily blocked the cut by gripping it in her palm, completely heedless of the red drops slipping to the floor as she disdainfully ripped the weapon away.

_Maybe the point is just to survive, _Tatsuki had long since concluded. She had been fighting off and on, without rest and with only snatches of food, for nearly 36 hours now. It was like the Valkyrie was deliberately trying to wear her down, with her constant harrying and exaggerated use of power. _Maybe she's trying to see how far she can push me before I give up._

As if that would happen.

Whatever the Valkyrie wanted from her, unlike the boys, she showed no inkling of secret power. As the hours wore on, her movements continued to become more shaky and imprecise, her mind more scattered and unfocused the more shots she took to the head.

_Stop thinking about it,_ she commanded herself. _If those two idiot have powers, then so do you. For crying out loud, you could see more stuff than them in the living world! Quit fucking worrying!_

She was almost too slow in dodging a clip to her neck, and that was as good an incentive as any to get her mind back in the game. The room Hraust had made her fall back into during the first exchange of this round came back into sharp focus.

Hraust had planted her feet for the blow, and Tatsuki thought it might be the perfect time to try a low, sweeping kick to put the woman off balance. As she turned into the kick, she realized her mistake a bare moment too late, when she felt the Valkyrie seize her by the scruff. Again.

_God DAMN IT!_ she thought, being caught in the same move twice. _She's right. Pathetic._

When her body bounced heavily off a wall, which must have been an exterior wall, as unlike the one in the cafeteria, it had virtually no give. She did her best to tuck for the fall to the floor and roll out of it. It felt slow, as if she were moving through syrup, be she managed to come up facing Hraust, who for the first time ever had a bit of a shocked look on her face. _Didn't expect me to be able to take that, did you bitch? _Thinking she could take advantage of the other woman's surprise, her chain rattled as she shifted her feet into position to rush the Valkyrie.

_My chain?_

Tatsuki looked down to see a long chain emerging from the center of her chest. Her eyes followed it down and behind her, where it connected to…to…_My body? _

There at the end of the chain was her body, sprawled face-down and lifeless where it had fallen after the impact with the wall.

Confused, Tatsuki swiveled to face Hraust, and found her standing less than a breath from her back, silent as death. The woman's eyes narrowed on her for a split second, as if concentrating.

"What happened?" Tatsuki yelled. "What have you done to me?"

"You are dead," said the Valkyrie. "Or nearly so. And there is something…_wrong_ about you."

This was not happening. It was _not_ happening. _I didn't come all this way just to DIE!_ she raged. _I'm not going to _let_ this happen!_ "How can I be dead!" the girl screamed. "I'm—"

"Silence," commanded Hraust. And as the woman grabbed her by the chain and hauled, Tatsuki lost consciousness.

* * *

It was only when snatches of a conversation between two women floated to Tatsuki's ears that she realized she was awake. It was only after letting that thought congeal in her mind for a few dozen heart beats that she realized this probably meant she was _alive._

_Alive_, she thought. _I have to be. A ghost couldn't feel this much pain._ It felt as though her chest had been crushed into itself. Every breath felt like she was tearing the bones of her ribcage apart only grind them back together on the exhale. She had learned how to ignore pain over a decade ago, and yet it still took everything she had left in her to stay calm, keep her eyes squeezed closed, and focus on what the women were saying instead of the agony.

Their voices sounded like they were speaking down a long, metal subway tunnel: far-off and somehow echoing in a strange and eerie manner. The words they were using were as strange as their sound, and she could only catch some of them.

"…could feel it. _Smell_ it…almost certain." _Hraust,_ she thought, though the woman's voice held an intensity that was in stark contrast to the cold aloofness she had displayed in the past.

"Almost? How…uncertain?" asked another woman's voice. It didn't hold any rancor, only the curiosity of a person trying to compile enough information to solve a particularly troublesome mystery.

"…different here…understand what I see…for your people to recognize your _own._"

There was a sigh, the only acknowledgement the woman made of Hraust's pointed dig. "…confirm…Reiraku."

There was a strange pulling, then. Not a physical one, but…it was hard to describe. _It's like someone is tugging on a thread connected to my soul._ She tried to ignore the thought of her soul unraveling like a thread-bare blanket when the strand was pulled.

Absurdly, she then started thinking about the dolls her aunts and cousins had bought for her when she was still in preschool, that spoke or cried when you pulled their chord. _A Valkyrie and a Shinigami are pulling my string. Should I speak or cry?_ If her lips didn't feel cracked, swollen, and crusted with blood, she would have smiled. _Fuck a pull-string_, she thought. _The Tatsuki Doll would have Karate-chop action._

The sensation was abruptly gone, and she heard Hraust snort, "As I said."

"Arisawa-san," said the other woman. In the silence after that word, it took Tatsuki almost five seconds to realize she was being addressed. "Arisawa," said the woman again, more insistent. _Even though my eyes are closed, she knows that I'm awake._

Tatsuki had not been pretending to sleep in order to eaves drop; she was simply so tired, so completely mentally and physically exhausted, she couldn't bring herself to do anything but listen passively. Her arms felt like lead weights at her side, if lead weights could feel torn and bruised. Laying bonelessly supine on the soft surface they had placed her on was quite literally all she could do.

With great effort, Tatsuki unglued her eyelashes to look blearily at the form that slowly resolved itself against the bright light that flooded her eyes. As she thought, it was a woman, though she had not imagined a woman with a long, dark braid plated down the front of her chest instead of her back. "Arisawa-san, I am Captain Unohana. Do you know where you are?"

The effort of talking was even more painful than the effort of breathing. "…hospital…" she wheezed out, forcing the word past her lips. She was alive, she was hurt, and there were blinding white surfaces that glared everywhere around her, blurring what limited vision she could manage. Where else could she possibly be?

Captain Unohana nodded. "In a sense, yes, Arisawa-san. Do you know what happened?"

She took another deep, painful breath, "Hraust…" she could not see or hear the Norse woman, but she could still sense her presence in the room.

"Hraust-san restarted your heart by compressing your chest. Her magic hasn't acclimated here in Soul Society long enough to use it to heal you. I know you are in a great amount of pain right now, and I will treat you very shortly. But I need to ask you a few questions first."

The nod Tatsuki could manage was miniscule.

"Arisawa-san, when you were in the living world, could you see ghosts*?"

"You mean…like…the monsters," she struggled out.

"No, Arisawa-san, not the Hollows and Arrancar. I know that you can see them. I mean ghosts—the spirits of mortal people that have passed on, and are waiting for a Soul Reaper to guide them. When you were in the living world, were you able to see them?"

"Yes…all the time…after…" her thoughts of it were jumbled—had always been jumbled. But she knew, she _knew_ that something had happened. "Snake…man…in Orihime's…apartment. Ichigo…"

"I see," said Uohanna, giving a meaningful look off to her right, where Tatsuki could only assume Hraust was standing. "Arisawa-san, I must inform you that your situation is different from your fellows. You are not going to manifest powers the way that they do."

It was not possible for Tatsuki to feel worse than she already did, but she somehow managed. _She's telling me this _now_? When I'm broken? _"But…"

"Arisawa-san, you will not manifest powers like them because unlike them, you are destined to be a Shinigami—as you have already been previously. Contact with Ichigo, or perhaps with your various run-ins with hollows, seems to have awakened your Zanpakuto. However, it is unable to confer any strength or power upon you while you are still in a living body." Her eyebrows drew together. "To your mutual frustration."

"Wh…Wha..." her lungs could not support her shock, "_What!_" Tatsuki gasped.

"I do not understand it perfectly myself at this time, Arisawa-san. But I will explain what we know, _after_ I have healed your extensive injuries. Please close your—"

"Hold," said an arctic voice.

Captain Unohana frowned, but as she looked over at the other woman, the expression softened. "Not too long."

The Valkyrie's red-blonde hair swam into view, then her glacial eyes. She had exchanged places with Unohana-san.

Tatsuki snorted, weak as it was. She was too tired, in too much pain, too bewildered by what she had learned to be intimidated by anyone—even one such as Hraust. "My ghost," she wheezed, "would have kicked your ass."

Tatsuki didn't know what she had been expecting, but a broad, toothy smile holding genuine amusement was certainly not it. "You would have tried. That, in itself, is a victory."

"What happens now?"

The rare smile faded. "Your situation is not one that Soul Society had anticipated when they made their agreement with Ma'at. Considering how little time they had for your training to begin with, and how much havoc Kurosaki Ichigo has caused all on his own as a 'living' Shinigami, it is unlikely that Soul Society will permit you to proceed, or provide you with the resources to be successful."

"So, what? They're just…" _Seriously, can't _anyone_ wait to give me bad news until I don't feel like a train wreck that's been hit by lightening? _"they're just gonna…send me home?" _They couldn't do that, right? I mean, wouldn't that just put the _town_ in danger?_

"There is another option."

"Then what are you waiting for?" she said as forcefully as she could manage. "Tell me!"

The woman paused before speaking, considering her. "Soul Society agreed to gather you in the first place as a favor to Ma'at—as a boon of appreciation for her aid. I am not as old and powerful as Ma'at, but I have sacrificed considerably more to help them in their time of need. If I were to ask them to provision you, they would be honor-bound to oblige me."

Tatsuki could only stare. There was something about being hunted by this woman for over 36 hours and beaten within inches of her life repeatedly that made it hard to process the help she was offering. "Why? Why would you do that for me?"

"Arisawa Tatsuki, daughter of Arisawa Akira and Kumino Sakura." Tatsuki shivered. There was a _command_ in the way the woman said her name, but whether it was for attention, loyalty, or blood, she couldn't say. _And how does she know my parents' names, anyway? _"It has been almost a thousand years since Freyja laid the winged helm on my head and my sisters named me Hraustligr.*" She seemed to grow taller as Tatsuki stared up at her, her bright hair glinting like metal. "In the millennia since that moment, I have never forgotten the pride I felt as I stood before them.

"I will not have that memory tarnished by the knowledge that I could have offered you a means to earn your own glory, realize your own potential, and did not. But before I make my request," her eyes bored into Tatsuki's with the exact same intensity as they had two days ago, when the woman offered to take her as a charge, "I will hear your vow that if I help you cut this path, that you will not turn back, no matter what befalls you."

Tatsuki let out a wheezing chuckle. Exhaustion had made her brazen. "You're delaying my medical treatment for _that?_ Didn't we go through this already." She looked the woman in the eyes, "You _killed_ me. I fought you literally until my last breath. What more proof do you need that I'll do whatever it takes?"

"When I agreed to take you as my charge, you laid your life on your success. But there are worse things that _death_, Arisawa Tatsuki. If you strive to become a Shinigami, you may forfeit your life, your afterlife, your very soul."

The woman's stare was serious and cold. "Choose."

_What will it matter?_ thought Tatsuki. _If I get eaten by a hollow, or an arrancar, it's my eternal soul on the line anyway. _Maybe all these elder demi-gods just liked being dramatic.

"I've already made my choice," she said with conviction. "And I'd appreciate it if you didn't question it again." _I can be dramatic too._

The Valkyrie snorted as one corner of her mouth pulled up in a smirk. "Very well. Get some rest," she said as Unohana appeared at her side and moved to begin the treatment.

"Tomorrow, the real work begins."

* * *

_Edit_: I feel like the server eats some of my words somewhere in the upload process. When I looked at the chapter I posted, words were missing that, when I went back to the word document I uploaded, WERE there. So, long story short, please forgive some of the glaring grammatical errors. I'll fix them as I catch them. If you're reading a sentence and it looks like a word is missing, blame ! Misspellings and incorrect punctuation, however, is all me. ^_^ _  
_

_Author's Note 2:_ I know some of you were hoping the boys would get a bit more spot light, so I hoped you enjoyed this chapter! Keigo might not have been as hyperactive as normal, but I did my best. Also, I apparently like to imagine him as having lots of poetic thoughts that he never shares. I had no idea I felt this way until I wrote this chapter!

Also, as of last chapter, this story has broken 100 reviews! Seriously, ya'll, I'm actually quite shocked by this—I never thought I'd have a story on here that was seen as good enough for people to collectively take the time to write 100 reviews. I was thinking of doing something special for a kiriban or something. Like, I'll pick a secret, soon-to-be-reached number, and the person who posts that review number gets to ask for a short, 1k-2k word piece? I dunno. If you have any suggestions, message me or post it in a review!

THANK YOU to loughlin, Infinite Dragon, Dreamweaver Mirar, School boy humor, Xoroth, Sironblood1, Axelle47, outlaw hunter, MiraResQNU, killerpoison, , Ultrawolfie, dragonlayer, Bleached Fighter, Flan-Bridge, Fro52, LiesRingTrue, red lilies, the DragonBard, Caitriona695, and Shinkansen. An abnormal amount of sitcom-esq drama seems to happen in my life, and I can't tell you how much receiving your thoughtful, insightful, and kind reviews brighten those days that are just the weirdest. Ditto for you guys that have favorited/alerted. You're all Aces!

No mythology notes this time, but there are some things in the story I wanted to elucidate a bit, and some questions that were asked I thought everyone might want to know the answer to.

* * *

_Answers to some specific questions:_

***Power Clashes and the Size of Reiatsu**_**:**_A couple of you pointed out that, in the last chapter, Ichigo has more power than Rukia, Chad, etc. and therefore should be _less_ effected by the enormity of Osiris's power than the other,s since Ichigo would be less effected by Aizen than say, Hanataro would be. Remember, though, that in this story, _the rules are reversed when you are in a realm of discordant reiatsu. _In a different Pantheon's realm, the weaker beings are less effected because there is less to _oppose. _That's why strong gods and demi gods can't go to Soul Society without magical help (like Ma'at) or giving up part of their power (like Hraust). Think of it like magnets—have you ever tried to force the wrong sides of two magnets together? With weak magnets, it's not that hard. With strong magnets, it's nigh impossible. Between members of the same Pantheon, though, the cannon rules apply. Ichigo and Kenpachi would crush each other less than either would crush Hanataro. Thanks, though, to everyone thinking about this story deeply enough to point out the seeming discrepancy! I hope this explanation made sense!

***Morning Star/Venus/Sun: **You are correct the DragonBard, the Morning Star is Venus, not the Sun. When I read your review, I was like, "Did I really write 'sun?' Really?" I'll fix it.

***Apollo/Scorpio/Artemis: **You are further correct, the DragonBard, that one version of the story of Orion and Scorpio is that Apollo sent the scorpion prevent Orion from seducing Artemis. However, since Orihime is trying to come to terms with the idea that "no one will rescue her," I decided to go with a more feminist version of the story!

***Anubis's face: **He had a human face in that chapter, Shinkansen, but if you'd like to imagine otherwise, there's nothing stopping you!

If I missed your question—SORRY! Message me and I'll get right to it!

* * *

_Story Notes (AKA, I see what u did thar):_

**Hraustligr: **_Dauntless. _Additionally, **Hraust** = _brave_, so I used this name because both the shortened and full versions have an appropriate meaning. Names have power, which is one of the reasons the Elder deities in the story go around calling everyone by their full name—to show that they _know_ it. The fact that the Hraust shared her own full name with Tatsuki is a measure of how impressed she is with the girl's determination.

"…**believed they were about to die.": **Before the whole "the Hongokyou grants wishes!" thing, I had suspected that the reason that Chad and Orihime had gotten powers and Tatsuki did not was that those two consciously believed, at that moment, that _someone else_ was about to die if they didn't suddenly get a whole lot stronger, whereas Tatsuki never really did accept her weakness before she was subjected to mind control—I really believe she thought she could tough it out, octopus monster or no. However, when Urahara and Yoruichi asked them during training, "What were you thinking about when it happened?" they never really did answer out loud. The logical thing for Urahara to assume was that they feared for _their own_ lives, which is what they passed on to Hraust, Ikkaku, and Madarme in this story. This bad advice only coincidentally works for Mizuiro and Keigo because they happen to be being trained together, and can therefore fear for each other as well as themselves.

"…**that he didn't want to broadcast.": **Even though Kuchiki is not the highest ranking or most powerful Captain in Soul Society, _he_ is the one that stood before Odin in Valhalla and made a blood oath, and therefore he is Hraust's direct supervisor, as well as any additional forces Odin supplies (see chapter 7). Those Norse take oaths seriously. I wanted to explain here why she reports to him instead of someone more senior, and there wasn't an elegant way to do it in-story. I imagine, stickler for propriety that he is, that he is _very slightly_ uncomfortable giving orders to someone significantly Elder to himself, but he's such a pro, he'll practically never let on.

**Could you see ghosts?: **So, here's something really interesting to consider. In cannon, we've seen that a lot of people can see hollows—but the _only_ people that are _shown_ to see straight up ghosts of people are Ichigo, Karin, Don Kanoji…and Tatsuki. Go back to chapter 37—Tatsuki sees two ghosts flirting, clearly enough to be annoyed by them _but Orhime doesn't._ Yet, for some reason, Orihime and Chad see the rip in the sky, and Tatsuki can't. If anyone can think of a contradiction, please post a review with a chapter and page number, but throughout the whole series Chad and Orihime do not see ghosts that aren't hollows, arrancar, or trapped inside a parrot. I have no idea if this is meaningful in cannon, but I've been wondering about it for a long time, and decided to make it part of the story.


	12. Dead and Alive

_Disclaimer:_ I do not own any of the characters in the following work. All recognizable anime characters belong to Tite Kubo. All others characters are adapted from a diverse spread of cultural and mythological lore. I am making no profit from this story.

_Author's Note 1:_ Not even I can believe how (relatively) quickly I got this chapter out. Less than two months? CRAZY!

Some of the dialogue and imagery in the first section is taken from chapter 262 of the manga. I've been trying to establish the general basis of the interaction between Ulquiorra and Orihime as close to cannon as possible, even though she's going to be in Hueco Mundo a lot longer before the rescue begins than in cannon. So, thus far I've been pulling part of the groundwork for their scenes from the manga itself. As of this chapter however, I think the framework is built and I can start shaping the Hueco Mundo arc of this story into more than just the vaguely threatening, push-me pull-you dynamic that is Ulquiorra and Orihime.

Also, since my notes are getting kinda diverse, from here on out, * denotes a footnote on mythology, and † denotes a footnote about the story (e.g., cannon continuity, food for thought from the source material, etc.). Let me know if this gets awkward. I might change my mind about it later.

* * *

**Chapter 12: Dead and Alive**

_Dead and alive_

_Come a little closer_

_You and I: _

_Affiliates forevermore, and_

_I'm alive_

_Death is just a feeling_

-Death is Just a Feeling

by Avantasia

* * *

_**Nights Since Orihime's Disappearance: 5 / Hueco Mundo**_

Ulquiorra never took her back to Szayel's lab. Ever since she had blacked out during the last procedure, she had not returned to the strange room with the sharp machines.

Whether she made personal visits to the pink-haired arrancar's project or not, her participation in it continued. Blood was drawn daily, but only in her quarters, and only one or two vials at a time.

_Considering how much they drew the first time, it's probably all they can take now. _Orihime seemed to recall after the one time she'd donated blood at her school that the waiting period was six weeks before you could donate again. That's how long it took a person to fully recover from the blood loss.

No doubt the pale arrancar staring at her now had everything to do with the strict two-vial limit. '_It is_ my _responsibility to make sure you remain unharmed,' _Ulquiorra had said. And there he stood next to the door, like a sentinel, watching Szayel's assistant the way she imagined off-duty detectives stared at suspicious persons they passed on the street. It was not lost on Orihime that, after the second vial, the assistant paused and looked at the Espada, hesitating ever so slightly before he withdrew the needle from her arm. _He wants to take more_, thought the girl, _but he doesn't dare challenge Ulquiorra._

The assistant left with the blood, but Ulquiorra lingered. _It's too early for lunch, and I already had breakfast. He can't be here to watch me eat. _But she knew better by now than to expect him to answer a question just because she asked it.

She had removed her bolero for the procedure so that the assistant could reach her inner arm with the needle. Before she could slip the sleeves of it back over her arms, Ulquiorra strode smoothly over, next to her chair, and grasped her elbow.

She paused, like a deer in headlights, waiting for him to make it clear what he wanted. _His fingers are cold._

He had lifted her arm up to get a closer look at the juncture of her elbow, where the other creature had pierced her with the needle. The area had been becoming dark purple under the skin over the last few days, as blood spread into the surrounding tissue from the vein that had been punctured over and over again during the multiple withdrawals.

"You are developing a hematoma," he said, blandly. _Hematoma,_ thought Orihime. _A bruise,_ she recalled from somewhere in her memory of biology class. It didn't really matter. _The worst wounds are always the ones nobody can see, anyway. _Between her awful parents and the loss of Sora, she had over a decade of experience in that field.

"Is it painful?" he asked. His tone was clinical. _Ichigo's father owns a clinic._ She shook her head. She did not want to think about Ichigo. _That_ was painful.

When she shook her head, he began probing the edges of the bruise with the fingers of his free hand, and watched her face for a response. 'Gentle' was not the way Orihime would describe it; that would have implied some smidgen of affection on his part, and the very idea of _affection_ hung off of Ulquiorra's persona the way ill-fitting suits hung on junior prom dates. _Careful,_ she concluded, surprised. _He is being careful not to hurt me. _Regardless, when his thumb got to the puncture site itself, she winced and jerked her arm away in reflex.

He didn't stop her from withdrawing her limb, sliding his hands back into his pockets instead. "The vein is blown. I will notify Szayel that there will be no blood drawn tomorrow."

Orihime didn't look at him as she refastened her jacket. "And does that serve Aizen-sama's will?" she asked, the lingering pain in her arm making her bold.

Ulquiorra just stared at her for several long moments, as if pondering whether he should answer. Just when Orihime thought he would stay silent, he said, "Szayel has enough blood for the prototype testing phase." For the first time, Orhime thought she heard an audible shrug in his voice. "It will not hurt Aizen-sama's objectives for him to wait for additional material until after all modifications are completed."

"Prototypes? What–"

"It is none of your concern."

Orihime bowed her head and let her eyes fall to his feet, but she could still feel his sharp gaze on her. Gauging her.

The silence stretched near to breaking before Ulquiorra spoke again. "You have been preoccupied with thoughts of your friends," he said with disdain.

"I was just wondering how they were," she confessed. What good would it do to lie to him? He would only point it out.

"You are wasting your time. Well or unwell, dead or alive, either way will do. You belong to Aizen-sama, and are nothing to them now. Nor should they be anything to you."

She tried to look anywhere but his eyes as she pressed down on her grief, trying desperately to keep it from showing. But she ended up staring at the place on his chest she knew his hole to be, a gaping void shielded by only a thin sheet of pale fabric. Somehow, that was worse that his eyes.

"That's not how friendship works," she replied, softly.

"Oh? And what is the proper procedure of friendship in this situation? Do you imagine that they are racing even now to rescue you?"

She didn't answer, even as her heart painfully twisted at his jab. Because even though she didn't dare imagine it, even though it made her so ashamed she tried to shove it to the furthest corners of her waking mind, some small part of her _wished_ that her friends would come. That Ichigo would come. And it did so with a desperation that made her feel selfish and pathetic.

Her efforts were wasted; Ulquiorra's eye really did see all. "How idiotic. Should they come here, they would soon be annihilated. Rather, you should see the inevitability of their defeat and hope they give Hueco Mundo a wide berth, lest their deaths be the fault of their own foolishness."

Was that all she had left? Not only resigning herself to never seeing her friends again, but actually _hoping_ that they didn't even consider her worth saving, lest they be brutally killed? She squeezed her hands together as tightly as she could against the pain in her heart until her nails bit her palm.

"If it were me, and my friends blindly rushed into Hueco Mundo, I'd be infuriated with their stupidity."

Something inside Orhime snapped, then. Not like a rubber band snaps, but like the spiral fracture of a bone. Without telling them to, her feet flew forward, and her right had lunged out to strike his pale cheek with its mocking, false tears. The only thought rattling in her head was, _Don't call my friends or their love stupid! _

If that thought hadn't been so lonely in there, all by itself, she might have realized sooner that striking the 4th Espada was a _stupid _idea. Her hand _throbbed_ with the pain of the impact, not to mention the fact that she had just physically assaulted a person in absolute power over her. She cradled the ruined hand to her chest, still panting with the adrenalin rush the strike had produced, and waited for his response.

Orihime didn't know whether to be surprised or unsurprised at his…_non-reaction_. For a split second, his face remained to the side, the way the force of the blow had angled it. Then slowly, without moving his head, his eyes slid to hers.

In that moment, Orhime knew unquestionably that what she thought had been cruel torment for torment's sake had been something else altogether. Much like he had probed at the boundaries of her bruise with his fingers until he had assessed the wound, he had prodded at the edges of her grief until it shattered.

_And what did he learn?_ she asked herself. Because, certainly, he had learned _something._ She could see it in his calculating stare. _What was he looking for?_ Both in the moment, and later as she was crying silently into her pillow, she simply did not know.

Finally, his face turned towards hers, and he spent a long moment looking into her eyes, stone-featured and revealing nothing.

"I will return in two hours," he said as he turned away, walking casually towards the door, unhurried. "At that time, you will have eaten everything brought to you, or I will bind you and force you to eat. You can count on that."

When Orihime was sure he had cleared the doorframe and could no longer see her, she leaned back against the wall for support, and cried.

* * *

_**Nights Since Orihime's Disappearance: 6 / Soul Society**_

She spent the night in the hospital, or whatever it was they called the building that functioned like one.

When she awoke, she was in a room with an open window, allowing in an autumn scented breeze that she could hear whipping the thin curtains back and forth. It made her unconsciously tighten her hands on the blanket she had been covered with. For a blissful second, she allowed herself to enjoy the warmth of the blanket, the softness of the bed and pillows beneath her, and the crisp chill of the breeze on her face. She knew instinctively she would not feel this comfortable again for a long, long time.

The second thing she became aware of was the Valkyrie's reiatsu. She was standing in the doorway, and though she was out of Tatsuki's line of vision, her presence was by now as obvious to the girl as her own. _My body has tuned itself to be alerted to her presence, so that she can't sneak up on me. Her very being here is the reason I woke up. _She wondered if she had her zan-pack…whatever…to thank for that. _For that matter, is that thing the reason I can sense Orihime?_ Just how long had this other consciousness been inside her? She hadn't had very long to think about it, but in the sparse moments of wakefulness she'd had since the 4th Squad Captain had healed her had been filled with vague unease that there was…something _else_ living inside her. If that was how it worked, anyway. She wasn't even _close_ to understanding.

"She has awaken," said the woman, even though Tatsuki's eyes were still closed.

"That's…kinda creepy," said an uncomfortable male voice. _The redhead. _Thought Tatsuki. _What was his name? _Maybe she _had_ taken one too many shots to the head.

Knowing she'd been made, she let her eyes flutter open as they both stepped around to where she could see them. The glaringly bright shade of his hair brought back the name she had been searching for. _Renji_. _The guy with tattoos for eyebrows who Urahara said was friends with Ichigo. Abarai Renji._

"How are you feeling?" he asked, looking genuinely concerned.

"Alive," said Tatsuki, ignoring the concern in case it also contained pity. She turned to the Valkyrie. "Well?"

"They have agreed to my request," she said. "As a boon to me, Soul Society will help you realize your Shinigami powers, under the conditions you have already agreed to, plus an explicit, sworn confirmation that you will obey orders during the coming war."

Tatsuki thought about the strangeness of that a minute before it dawned on her. "They've had enough of Ichigo running around and doing whatever he feels like, is that it?" She didn't wait for an answer, she _knew_ it was true. _I've had enough of his bullshit too. _"Do I have to swear it to you? Or do I have to swear to Fire Engine over here?" Tatsuki was pleased when the 'concerned look' disappeared behind a scowl.

"You will swear before a Captain when the time has come. We also settled the matter of assignment for your education."

Tatsuki frowned. "What do you mean? You made me swear on my life and afterlife like ten times so that _you _would be teaching me."

"I agreed to take on a fighter and turn her into a warrior. I will keep my promise. But I cannot teach you how to be a _Shinigami_, Arisawa Tatsuki, anymore than I can teach a vixen how to be a hawk. Like must teach like."

Tatsuki bit off her reply. _I guess that makes sense. Did Valkyries even _have_ those…zan-tak-pos?_ She looked at Renji. _Is that why he's here?_

She almost said it out loud, until she recalled the conversation she'd had with Urahara the night she left. _"You would have seen him the other night at the bridge, traveling with them to the Underworlds, if he had any say in it whatsoever. But he didn't. And he won't," _he'd said. "_So please refrain from adding insult to injury by kicking him in the groin_." Looking more carefully, she could see the traces of both anger and resignation on his face, now, being hidden behind a scowl of annoyance. _If he did not know he was stuck here then, he does now. _She could only hope that he was smart enough to know that whatever the reason was they'd kept him here, it wasn't on her account. _It's not like anybody could have known this would happen, right?_ In light of this realization, she decided to rein in her attitude.

"Abarai Renji and I will share the responsibility of your training," the Valkyrie finished.

"I thought that Lieutenants weren't supposed to take up their time with us," said Tatsuki.

"The situation has changed," said Abarai. "Ichigo was able to bring out his own powers through a…process that Urahara developed. But he had months worth of experience as a Shinigami before he underwent it, thanks to Rukia temporarily giving him her powers." The look on his face said the story was Way Too Complicated, so she didn't ask any of the billions of questions she had about it.

"So…"

"So we've got to squeeze months worth of field experience into training sessions," he said.

"And since none of the Lieutenants or Captains have the time to train you for the duration, a large portion of them will each spend a small amount of time working with you," finished Hraust. "But before that training can happen, we must begin the process of…" the woman trailed off, then frowned. She made an outward gesture from her chest with her hands, looking frustrated.

"Releasing your zanpakuto," supplied Renji in a carefully neutral in tone, as if to not give offence.

"Zan-paku-to," the woman enunciated, and paused. "The entire concept is odd."

"Zan-paku-to," repeated Tatsuki, taking the opportunity to learn it. "How is it odd?"

"Has Urahara explained to you what a zanpakuto is, Arisawa?" asked Renji.

"A bit," she said. Urahara had gone over everything 'a bit.' Even at the time she had been certain that he was leaving wide swaths unsaid, but in the end, she couldn't really blame him. He had talked for hours the night they had confronted him, and if he could not give them all the details in the allotted time frame, he _had_ given them a pretty good run down of the Big Picture.

"He told us that it's the weapon and primary tool of each Shinigami, but that arrancar also posses them."

"That's _true_, but it's kind of like calling your arm a weapon, or your brain a tool," said the redhead. "Soul cutters are physical manifestations of a Shinigami's reiatsu, so concentrated that they actually have their own sentience. They're literally a part of you, which is why each one has its own personality, unique to its bearer."

"…so, there really is another…_presence_ inside me," she said. "And…it's always been there?"

"Yes…and also no," he said. "In humans whose reiatsu is sizeable enough to possess a zanpakuto, it is dormant while they're alive. It can't impart any type of power to them until they're dead. Yours is awake."

"And it has to be realeased," she finished. "How?

"Well…" he began, and his hand reached up to scratch the back of his head. "It's…there are a number of steps. We're actually supposed to take you over for the first right now."

"Which is…"

"A volunteer Shinigami will infuse you with their power. It will allow you to train for a while as a Shinigami _before_ the actual release of your own zanpakuto. The captains were unsure if you would be able to handle the release without any experience." He pasued for a moment, "That's the pattern Ichigo's journey took. The higher-ups don't want to deviate from it, just in case."

_Huh. I guess that makes sense, go with what you know. But.. _Her own reiatsu was nowhere near that of Ichigo's…

"If you are ready," said Hraust, motioning towards the door.

Tatsuki nodded, and once she'd risen from the bed, all three of them started towards the exit.

"So, Valkyries don't have swords, then?" asked Tatsuki as they left.

"Of _course_ we have swords," said Hraust, though all Tatsuki had ever seen her wield was that long-bladed axe.

"But you said the whole thing is 'odd,'" countered Tatsuki.

"To me, it is," replied Hraust. "My sword was forged by Svartalves, and inscribed with runes by Freyja herself. With it, I have crushed bones, sliced flesh, and prodded dead, rotting corpses. I have flung brain matter and bile from its blade with a flick of my wrist."

"So?" asked Tatuski.

"So I think it's bizarre that Shinigami do all those things with a sentient piece of their soul."

* * *

When they arrived at the meeting place and preceded through the door, she instantly recognized the white-haired Ukitake. His smile of greeting made her relax a fraction of a degree. Once again, she was struck by how the idea of feeling welcomed had become so completely foreign to her, not just since her arrival in Soul Society, but even in Karakura amongst her friends…_everywhere. _Seeing a genuine greeting directed at her was jarring and comforting by equal measures.

Beside Captain Ukitake stood a man that was…_Huh. How to describe him?_ He was handsome, bordering on almost feminine beauty in his facial features, but was not particularly slim or delicate looking. 'Cold' was a word that came to mind. 'Distant,' perhaps. There was something like arrogance about him too, though she did not detect any particular disapproval in his expression as he looked at her—only detachment. _This one takes his duty very seriously. _She could not say what it was about this man that made it obvious, but it was.

"Hello Arisawa-san," said Ukitake, still smiling. "It's good to see you well."

"It's good to _be_ well, Ukitake-san, thank you."

"Lieutenant Abarai has explained to you what's going to happen?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Captain Kuchiki and I," he said, motioning to the man, "along with your two primary instructors, will be here to oversee the transfer, and make sure nothing goes wrong." He did not miss the tension that leapt to her face, in spite of her efforts to conceal it. "Try not to worry. After all, Ichigo was given Rukia's powers in the field, under much less controlled circumstances, and they both came out okay in the end."† Tatsuki did not miss the look Abarai gave Kuchiki, or the way the captain studiously ignored it. _Maybe some day I'll get the real story. _There were many, many questions she had about the events she had witnessed in the past, but not understood. _That first time they all left…it was about Rukia, right? At least, that's what strippey-hat said._

She still remembered Rukia, though many in the class didn't seem to. Not for the first time, she struggled with the vague thought that her life, _all_ their lives would have been easier if only Rukia had been better at her job. She didn't like thinking that way. It felt too much like jealousy, and Tatsuki wanted to give _that_ particularly emotion, and all its unsettling implications, a wide berth.

"We've asked around for officers willing to temporarily donate their powers to you for a short period. I think we've managed to find someone. They should be arriving any second," said Ukitake.

Almost before he had finished speaking, a man unlike any Tatsuki had ever seen prowled into the room. He was tall, taller than even Renji, and his absurd hair—_Are those bells?_—only increased the effect as he stooped under the doorway.

Tatsuki looked at the solitary eye that pierced through her as he straightened to his full height, and fought with everything in her body, mind, and will to not collapse from the spiritual pressure rolling off of him. She was sure her knees were shaking.

_Don't, _she thought to herself. _Don't bend. Don't break. Find the steel in your spine. _She focused her thoughts there, willing her back to be unbowed. _You're Tatsuki. A fucking Viking demigoddess beat you to death and you rolled to your feet. You can stand to look at this man._

"Arisawa-san, this is Zaraki Kenpachi, Captain of the 11th Squad," said Captain Ukitake. There were two things that Tatsuki knew in that moment.

1) It did not matter what had been arranged, she could _not_ handle Zaraki's power if he were to give it to her. There wasn't a snowball's chance in Hell. _Whichever Hell, any of them. _

2) The 11th Squad was a bunch of bad asses, if this was their boss. _Note to self, do not fuck with the 11__th__ Squad,_ she thought. _Well, if it can be helped,_ she amended. If threatened by Cthulhu himself, she wouldn't back down. She settled on the notion that she wouldn't go _looking_ for trouble there.

She had opened her mouth—to say what, she didn't know—when the face of a tiny, pink-haired girl popped up over the frightening man's shoulder. The sight was so incongruous that her mouth hung open.

"Hi Tatsuki-chan!" she exclaimed in a little-girl voice, her cheeks as pink as her hair.

"Hi…" said Tatsuki, sounding as lost as she felt. It was either that, or 'Look out! There's a big scary man underneath you!' Her instincts told her that the latter was not the way to go.

"Kusajishi Yachiru here is the Lieutenant of Squad 11," said Ukitake, smiling. "She has volunteered to donate her powers to you for two weeks, so that you will be prepared for…the next stage." Tatsuki noted the pause.

She wanted to say a lot of things. 'You?' was first, but it was incredibly rude, so she choked it back. 'How old are you?' tried to slip past next, but she clamped down on that, too. She figured that if she was going to ask a rude question, and only allow herself one, she might as well ask the only one that was important to her.

"Why?"

Yachiru held up both her hands (Tatsuki wondered how she managed to stay perched. Toes?) and exclaimed, "Everybody's talking about how you can take a punch! Even Baldy!" The girl's smile made her think of Yuzu's for a ridiculous moment…_Well, maybe not Yuzu, but some psycho killer with Yuzu's facial features._

"What are you talking about?" asked Tatsuki. For an absurd moment, Tatsuki thought that what the girl was saying had something to do with Ichigo, because if someone in the world should be well aware that Arisawa Tatsuki could take a punch, _and_ dish them out, it was Kurosaki Ichigo. _That's stupid,_ she thought, suddenly angry with herself. _Ichigo hasn't talked _to_ me in a long time. He's not going to be _thinking_ about me in Soul Society, where all this crazy, fucked-up stuff happens, let alone talking about me.†_

"The…severity of your training with Hraust-san is common knowledge in the Seireitei, Arisawa-san," said Ukitake.

Captain Kuchiki turned to Zaraki, and said the first words she had heard him say. "You've officially approved of Kusajishi lending Arisawa her powers?"

The big man plopped a large hand down on top of the girl's head and rubbed. "Her powers, her choice. Besides, I…" the man coughed, and the huge hand left Yachiru's head to scratch at the back of his own, making the bells in his hair jingle. "I might owe a Valkyrie a favor," he finished in a lower, slightly hurried voice.

Hraust narrowed her eyes at Zaraki for the slimmest of seconds before a look of comprehension dawned on her face. "Ah. Yes. Sigrun." Tatsuki got the impression the woman was trying for a 'disapproving face,' but the effect was nearly ruined by the slight up-turn in the corners of her mouth. "She has spoken of it. Usually after enough mead to kill an aurochs.* Though to hear her tell it, you did not have a name."

The man's expression couldn't properly be called a smile; there were far too many teeth for it, though technically it probably met the definition. "Known only by my fighting reputation in the Northern Wastes, huh?" Tatsuki could tell that the prospect pleased him to no end.

Hraust snorted. "Hardly. Your fighting prowess is never the one she boasts about."

The way the man's face fell was nothing short of comical. Hraust swept her hand in a dismissive gesture as if to wipe the conversation away, and looked at Tatsuki. "Are you prepared?" Tatsuki nodded, and stepped forward.

Yachiru had jumped off Captain Zaraki's back and was holding a small sword that had…_Wheels?_…installed on the scabbard. As she pulled the blade forth, Tatsuki was somehow unsurprised to see that the steel was a pale pink that complemented the dark magenta of the grip. Silently, Hraust moved forward to stand at Tatsuki's right elbow, Abarai at her left. She wasn't sure why they were doing it, but she could only assume it was some sort of precaution. She tried not to let it make her uneasy.

"Urahara advised, for the smoothest transition, that you release into Shikai for the procedure," reminded Ukitake.

The girl's ever-present blush got brighter. "Okay!"

She gripped the hilt tightly, holding the blade out in front of her, parallel to the ground. "Skin them alive, Hakudatsu!"†

There was a flash of light and a sudden wind, and suddenly the sword was not a sword anymore, but an oddly recurved knife. In a man's hands the weapon might have looked diminutive, but in the girl's tiny fingers the knife was the size of a long dirk or a dagger, only with a deformed blade.

"Oh," said Tatsuki, before her brain could catch up. "I had expected it to get…bigger." She regretted the stupid, disrespectful words the minute they were out of her mouth, and fought to keep her expression dignified even as Renji made a choking noise she could only assume was stifled laughter. Nevertheless, it was true. _It was a sword before. Why would it have more power in this form?_

The girl gave no sign she was offended. "If it was bigger, it wouldn't work right, Tat-Tat!"

_Tat-Tat?_ "Work right?"

The Valkyrie snorted. "That's the type of knife that you carry if you mean to wear your enemy's skin like a coat. It's a flaying knife."

The little girl's confirming smile was quite possibly the creepiest thing Tatsuki had ever seen.

She shook her head. "Alright, let's do this."

The words were barely out of her mouth when the girl lunged forward, the cruel skinning blade plunging into Tatsuki's heart…and _twisting._

Her last thought was, _Holy crap, that little girl is _strong.

* * *

She could taste colors. _All_ of them.

And they all tasted like fire and blood.

Tatsuki had never, ever done drugs. It was not that she was a particularly moral person, but karate was important to her, and even if the physical toll they might have on her body was not a consideration, the drug tests taken as part of her standard pre-match physical would be. It was for that reason that she had not even the slightest frame of reference for the cacophony of sensory input that assaulted her.

Objectively, she was sure that the bright moment lasted but a fraction of a fraction of an instant, with its screaming smells and flavorful sounds. But instinctively she knew it was also infinite; it was the substance of the universe, unordered and wild, released on her in the terrible moment she was neither dead nor alive—or was it when she was both?

If she had the wherewithal to consider the moment carefully—which she did not—she would have said that this was the distance between _seeing_ the mysteries of the universe unraveled, and _understanding_ them. Just as simply being able to see a complex quantum physics equation writ large did not endow her with the tools or capacity to solve it, so to was the information assaulting her senses beyond her.

The instant could not last, but collapsed in on itself, centered on the hot-cold sensation of a blood red ribbon sliding through her hand, like the pull of a rope as she rappelled down a cliff.

_I know you. _She couldn't say if it was herself, or _him_ thinking it. _Definitely a 'him,'_ she knew, as she could feel the depth of his voice, even in her thoughts. She could feel his awareness of her as well, like the soft scraping of scales at the edges of her mind.

_I _know_ you. _Maybe they were_ both_ thinking it.

_I have always, always known you. You're…_

* * *

...

* * *

When she woke up, she was not in her body. Impossibly, this was not nearly her foremost concern. Nothing was as important as trying to reach out and grab the name that lingered at the edge of her waking memory, quickly floating away.

"I…I knew his name, it was there but it's–!"

"Just breathe for a moment," said a voice, she couldn't have said who. Someone was holding her arm tightly, keeping her standing.

"I _can't_, it will be _gone_ in a moment!" she exclaimed to no one and everyone, and began to struggle with all her might. Didn't they understand that she _knew_ him but she couldn't remember–

Before anything else could happen, she was struck by a solid blow to the face, closed fisted. Her arm was yanked from the hand holding it as she fell to the floor, but before she could impact with the ground someone else had hauled her up by the back of her robes. _Robes?_

She looked down at herself, and saw she was dressed in the black robes that the other Shingami were wearing—that she had seen Ichigo wearing when he thought she couldn't see. The only difference was the sash around her waist, which was the same black as the rest of the outfit, instead of the white the Shinigami around her wore. But it wasn't the clothes that caught her eye as much as the sword she unconsciously had in a death-grip. Its scabbard was a silky, ebony black, smooth under her fingers. The hilt was wrapped in what felt like snake or alligator skin—cool, overlapping scales—but the color was all wrong. Instead of green, brown, or black, the grip gleamed back at her a very pale gold, like precious metal pounded into the pattern of a reptile's hide.

She tore her gaze away to rub at her face, and suddenly the world seemed crisper around the edges. As the throbbing pain in her eye became sharper, so too did everything around her come into better focus.

"What the hell did you do that for?" the red head was yelling. _His name is Abarai. He came to get me from Karakura. He was the one holding my arm. _She gently shook her head. _Why didn't I recognize his voice?_

"She was hysterical," said the Valkyrie. _Hraust. Her name is Hraustligr. She reminds me of snow. _Why did it feel like she'd forgotten all this a moment ago?

"So you punched her in the face?"

Hraust was staring at Renji as if someone had just told her it was improper to peel an orange before eating it. Then she motioned to Tatsuki. "_That_ refocused her."

Renji was clearly at a loss for words, half because he didn't believe the woman could possibly be arguing the point, and half because the violent method had clearly worked. Tatsuki _did_ feel more coherent. _What the hell was I even so concerned about?_ She could not longer remember. Like a dream disappears with the morning sun, the urgency she had just felt was all but evaporated.

The sound of Renji and Hraust bickering, and even the low tones of Captain Kuchiki's dry rebuke to them both faded into the background as she noticed her own body lying curled on its side at the Valkyrie's feet. _My…my…_ It was like looking at her own dead body.

It _was_ looking at her own dead body.

"Don't worry, Arisawa-san," said Ukitake as Hraust easily lifted her still form over her shoulder. "We'll take good care of your physical body."

If Tatsuki trusted anyone's word in this place, it was Captain Ukitake's. But she still didn't want to look at herself anymore, regardless-it gave her the creeps. Instead, she craned her neck to see that it was Captain Zaraki that had snatched her up by collar. Once he saw she had gained a stable footing, he released her. "I had heard you were tough, girl," he said as he stared down at her, traces of blood-lust coloring his predatory grin. "If you collapse from a friendly tap, you'll never get good enough to fight me." The smile got toothier. "A damn shame. Kurosaki raised my expectations for death-matches with mortals." Yachiru, not looking discernibly different, popped up over his shoulder and made an excited noise of agreement.

Something about him told her, despite the crushing weight of his gaze, it was important she at least play along. "Ichigo fought you?" His canines said it all. "Pft." She said, dismissively. "I've made that kid cry more than anyone, living or dead. You better give me a higher benchmark than _that._"

When the man threw his head back and laughed, Tatsuki knew she had said the right thing.

* * *

**Nights Since Orihime's Disappearance: 6 / Hueco Mundo**

When she woke up that morning, there was a dog staring at her.

And because she was Orihime, her first thought was not, 'What's a dog doing in here?_' _but was, in fact, _He's got big ears, for a dog!_

Save for the furry muzzle two feet from her face, there was nothing else strange about her room. Neither Ulquiorra, nor any other arrancar were present.

_Is this some sort of trick? _She peeked at the door, but did not detect anybody lurking in the doorway. She turned back to the dog, who tilted his head and let his tongue loll out of his mouth. _No, Ulquiorra doesn't seem like he believes in jokes. _Probably you had to be able to laugh in order to be capable of enjoying a practical joke. _And I don't think he'd let any of the other arrancar put a dangerous animal in here with me._ His strictness with the 8th Espada's experimental procedure was enough evidence for her that no matter what he thought about her personally, he _would_ protect her from physical harm. _Besides, Aizen would not want his goods damaged. _She could not stop her face from falling into a stricken expression at the thought of herself as _goods._

Almost as if he had sensed the self-depreciating direction her mind had taken, the canine let out a sharp whining noise, and shifted closer to push his head under her hand. _But there _is_ a dog here. Where did he come from?_

She looked at the grey-brown fur, and the dark eyes that closed as she ran her fingers over his head, and smiled. _At least someone here is friendly. _She did not linger long on the passing thought that someone, maybe Aizen, maybe Ulquiorra, had put him in with her to keep her company, as it was simply too good to be true.

As she scratched, she noticed that there was a distinct mark, almost half the size of her palm, embedded at the dog's shoulder. Bright red and wet looking, the raised mark reminded her of the waxen seals princes and lovers closed their letters with in all the stories Sora had told her as a child. But before she got a chance to stretch her fingers forward to examine it, something even _stranger _happened.

"Mmmmgggrrrr, I _love_ when pretty girls scratch my ears," said the animal in perfectly intelligible Japanese.

Orihime couldn't snatch her hand back fast enough. When she yanked her fingers away and flung her body backwards, the momentum carried her clean over the other side of the bed. She collapsed into a pile on the floor, narrowly avoiding cracking her head open on the cold, smooth stone.

By the time she had righted herself the dog had leapt up on the bed, and starred mockingly down at her from where he sat on his haunches.

For the life of her, Orihime had no idea how it was a dog could _smile_ like that.

"Who are you?" she asked. _Should I call for Ulquiorra?_ she wondered as her heart continued to race. _Would he even come if I called?_ She _had_ hit him.

"_What_ are you?" she demanded.

"I have many names, precious thing," he said, his voice simultaneously the deep dark of the night sky and the bright, mischievous twinkling of its stars.

"But _you_ may call me Coyote."*

* * *

_Author's Note 2:_ Orhime, chillin' with an infamous trickster god. Nothing can go wrong here!

BIG THANKS to: Fraggranark, Daricio, InfiniteDragon, loughlin, Xoroth, StormBrisingr, Blinded in a bolthole, HokkaidoMaster, dragonlayer, Sironblood1, xJ11Cx, and David. Your kind words keep me writing, and I truly appreciate the time you take to leave me feedback!

Thank you to everyone who responded with thoughts on the whole Tatsuki/ghost thing. InfiniteDragon pointed to a moment in a filler arc that Keigo saw some ghosts, but I don't watch the anime (I just read the manga), so I don't really count the filler arcs as cannon. Thus, Karakura Raizer! doesn't exist in this universe, either. Still, good looking out, InfiniteDragon!

Also, to reviewer David—I wanted to respond to your excellent reply, but I couldn't PM you because you're not a site author. Your theory that ghosts are easier to see than hollows, and that Orihime and Chad are just never in position to see them is very logical—and you're right that some people (Karin and Tatsuki) are shown to see ghosts _before _they can see hollows (but eventually see them too). HOWEVER, in chapter 37, (page 13 on mangareader (dot) net) Tatsuki interrupts Orihime mid-sentence and starts swatting at a ghost that was bothering her, _and Orihime doesn't understand what she's doing._ Orhime is looking right at them both, and there's just a question mark over her head because Tatuski is acting strange. And at this point Tatsuki can, in her own words, "see ghosts clearly to the point that I can't take it any more." So, it's only once, but clearly Orihime _should_ have been able to see that mustachioed ghost if Tatsuki could. I propose (for this story, I don't know _what_ cannon is doing, maybe it was an oversight by Kubo) that they are able to see different things first because they have different origins of their power.

* * *

_*Mythology Notes:_

**Aurochs:**The ancestor of modern cattle, which existed in Europe, Asia, and North Africa until it went extinct in 1627. They were enormous animals, the males reaching 5'10" at the shoulder. It is the kenning of the second rune in the runic 'alphabet,' urox/uruz (it looks like a downward U), which represents the strength one builds and cultivates in preparation for an archetypal trial or rite of initiation—such as stalking and killing your first aurochs with nothing but a spear.

**Coyote: **Coyote is a mischievous figure in the mythology of many Native American tribes, and an exemplar of the "trickster god" archetype. He loves to play practical jokes on the other animals, and is an expert at getting himself into, and out of trouble. We'll learn more about the legends of Coyote as they are tied into the story.

* * *

† _Story Notes & Food for Thought (AKA, I see what you did thar):_

_**Hakudatsu: **__deprivation, divestiture, peeling away_

**They both came out okay in the end:** I know in chapter 1 in the manga, Rukia says that the reiatsu by stabbing transfer has a low percentage of success, and that she only thinks it will work because he has an unusually high spiritual power, but Tatsuki is undergoing this procedure _in_ Soul Society surrounded by Captains and Lieutenants who know what they're doing, probably more so than Rukia did so early on. I think they could make it work just fine.

**Talking about me: **for the most part, Tatsuki is right—she's rarely mentioned by _anybody_ if she's not actually on-screen, even Orhime. Except of course, for the bizarre moment in chapter 77 when Ichigo yells at Ganju, "That punch hurt, didn't it? Before middle school, I was stronger than Tatsuki in karate." The first time I read that, I couldn't figure out _why_ Ichigo would say that to taunt Ganju. Like, "_Hey, guy who lives in the spirit world and rides a pig, I'm better at karate than a mortal human girl you've never met! Clearly I'm going to win this fight!" _Seriously, WTF? The obvious explanation is that Kubo was trying to give us a frame of reference for how good Ichigo is, but…does saying he's better at karate than a 5'2" girl, who we've already seen defeated by hollows weaker than the ones Ichigo's faced, really give us any new information? Is that explanation alone worth the set up of showing Tatsuki to be capable of winning 2nd place in a tournament with a broken arm, just so that a brief remark to Ganju carries _some_ weight? And what was _with_ that car accident, anyway? In any case, being stronger than Tatsuki clearly means something significant to Ichigo, if he thinks, inexplicably, it should mean something to Ganju. Thoughts? I'm curious to know what other think, I've never seen anyone bring this up anywhere.

I swear, some day I will just write a page-by-page critique of Tatsuki's role in Bleach, analyzing the multitude of little moments Kubo inserts her into the text for seemingly no other reason than to tell us she's important (only to never follow through).


	13. Laughter From the Skies

_Disclaimer:_ I do not own any of the characters in the following work. All recognizable anime characters belong to Tite Kubo. All others characters are adapted from a diverse spread of cultural and mythological lore. I am making no profit from this story.

_Author's Note 1:_ Things I think this story is ready to handle: blatant sexual innuendo; gratuitous semi-nudity; profound embarrassment. Please enjoy.

Also, please note that FN will not let me put a "?" next to a "!" to denote a question? asked with exclamation! So, please infer from context if the ? is also ! (Sorry, I don't know why it bothers me so much, but it does!)

* * *

**Chapter 13: Laughter from the Skies**

_Right before your eyes_

_We'll pull laughter from the skies_

_Then he laughs until he cries_

_Then he dies, then he dies_

-Karn Evil 9

by Emerson, Lake & Palmer

* * *

_**Nights Since Orihime's Disappearance: 6 / Hueco Mundo**_

"What are you doing here?" Orihime asked, scooting backwards on the floor to put some space between herself and the talking canine.

"I know what _you're_ doing here," he said, nosing at the bed sheets that lay rumpled underneath him and taking a deep whiff. "Dreaming of some far-away lover, with strong arms and burning eyes?" The sound of the coyote laughing was disturbing—a yipping noise that could just as easily be laughing at you as laughing with you.

"I was _not_—"

"A cold love with marble skin, then?" More yipping laughter. "Really, my dear, these sheets _reek_ of anxiety and unrequited desire. Something you want to talk about? I assure you, I'm all ears," he crooned, turning said ears forward.

Her face burned scarlet, and she closed her eyes in embarrassment so she would not have to meet his leering gaze. She was surprised that her cheeks didn't explode into flames.

_He's _trying_ to embarrass you, to put you off your guard_. Was that voice in her head her own? It seemed too confident and sure to be in there with all the other twisted-up thoughts and jangled nerves. She may have been able to accept being kidnaped to a Night palace, but being taunted about her angst-ridden feelings by a talking coyote in said Night palace was just _too _bizarre. At least Ulquiorra hadn't seemed to _enjoy _screwing with her emotions. _He cannot actually know about Kurosaki-kun, _she thought, trying to rally herself. _Remember what you promised, 'I will have to be strong for myself.'_

She planted her palms on the smooth stone floor beneath her, and let its cold stability be her anchor.

"I'll call Ulquiorra_,_" she said. It never quite got to the 'threat' she had intended, but at least it didn't come out as a plea. Somewhere in the back of her mind, the thought of invoking the arrancar's name for safety felt strange and uncomfortable. She ignored it.

"_El Que Llora," † _said Coyote between more mocking laughter, "what a perfectly ironic name for such a creature."

_He knows Ulquiorra, then?_ She was quickly becoming even more confused.

"Did…did he let you in here?" _Keep your face stern!_

"Who says anybody let me in here?" Coyote said with a grin.

She planted her bare feet on the stone and pushed herself to a stand, taking a deep breath. _He _will_ come_, she told herself.

Coyote let out a whining bark, which Orihime somehow could clearly interpret as '_Alright, already.' _She held her call as he leapt off the bed and onto the floor, once again giving her the high ground. She wasn't exactly sure what had happened, but she felt she had won a victory somewhere in the exchange.

"Well, _someone_ is rather uptight this morning. There's no need for you to be so flustered dear."

She ignored the redness of her cheeks. "If you don't want me to call him, answer my questions!" She tried her best not to sound squeaky. People had told her in the past that it made her 'too cute to be scary,' but even at the time she knew what they really meant was 'too cute to be taken _seriously.'_ It stuck out in her mind because it was the first time that being told she was cute made her feel badly about herself.

She thought about how fierce Tatsuki would sound—she _never_ squeaked, even when she was scared. _No one would refuse to answer Tatsuki! _†She held her friends voice in her mind as she repeated her question. "What _are_ you?"

"Come on, Carrot-girl! Haven't you figured it out by now? I'm a god!" said the canine. "The _best_ god, some might say."

"But…you're a dog!"

"Isn't dog just god spelled backwards?" Coyote's tongue lolled out. "There are cultures that know my name all across…well, _you_ would call them 'the Americas' now, but they weren't called that when I was a pup."

"Oh," was all she could muster. Orihime tried her best, but the only coyote she knew of from America was Wile E. Coyote, and she was 90% sure they were different. She tried not to let that thought derail her completely. Being Orihime, it took supreme effort on her part not to ask him a question about fast-running birds.

"But…what are you doing in Hueco Mundo?"

Coyote's eyes shifted into a more pensive, serious look, though it was quickly covered with more mischievousness. She was not sure how it came to pass that she could interpret expressions on the face of a dog…but the ability seemed to have come to her, regardless.

"You have given Aizen an immeasurable gift, little one. I am but the first visitor to test it," he said, motioning to the red mark on his shoulder. "Aizen needed a powerful god to test the capability of his neutralization device." Coyote puffed out his chest importantly and flicked his tail back and forth. "Naturally, my strong reiatsu made me an excellent choice."

"His…neutralization device? But how did I…" she had an awful sinking feeling in her stomach as she stared at the red mark that glistened wetly in the dim light.

"Your blood is the battery, child. The key." It did not escape her notice that his voice became softer in tone as he spoke, even if it was still glib. "Have you ever tried to mix oil and water? When a god tries to cross into his neighbor's realm, the effect is usually much the same—though much more painful. But not with _your _help. Your blood is a conduit for your rather unique powers. Your witch-doctor used it to make a device that allows a being like me to flirt with pretty girls in Hueco Mundo." The canid smile at the end did not make her feel less unsettled.

"And…he's planning to bring more of…more of you here?"

"Well certainly not more of _me_, precious thing. You could search a trillion galaxies and never find another Coyote. But other gods and demi-gods, quite certainly. I am already terribly curious how he will corral all of us."

"Why?" Her head was pounding like a drum. A drum that kept thumping the word '_War, war, war.'_

"…Don't ask questions you already know the answer to, Carrot-girl."

She clenched her hand over her chest. How could even the entire Seireitei stand up to something like that? _He's using me to cheat. It's like he's playing baseball and he keeps adding extra players to his team! But Soul Society's team won't get any extra players, because I… _

She had thought she was saving them. She had thought that by sacrificing her freedom, she could prevent all-out battle. Wasn't that what Ulquiorra had promised her? _No, _she realized._ Ulquiorra promised to end the fight that was happening when he came to me._ She was not so naïve that she had thought it would protect them forever, but she had thought… _Well, maybe I didn't think,_ she reflected sadly. She didn't know what she thought Aizen had wanted her for, but she certainly never imagined he could use her to build an army exponentially more powerful than the one he already had. If they were overwhelmed by the combined forces of many powerful gods…_It will be all my fault. I will have killed them._

"My friends in Soul Society…"

"Already know, I'm sure." He bark-laughed again. "Aizen was not exactly subtle."

"But they'll be–!"

"Ha ha! You are not some divinatory priestess, that you know what will happen before it does." He smiled again. "What a faithless girl! If they know, then they'll be preparing too. Have some confidence in the abilities of the people you call friends! Ha ha!" clearly, he thought her distress was hilarious.

She couldn't bear to think about it any more, so she decided to change the subject.

"Why were you the first? Are you the strongest?"

"Ha ha! Praise from a pretty girl, who agrees I am magnificent, if she thinks I could be the most powerful. No Carrot-girl. I will not be the strongest to join Aizen. But I _am_ the most clever." His tail swished back and forth in a pleased manner.

Something in her heart fell. "So, you _are_ Aizen's ally." She had just gotten comfortable talking with Coyote. He was being so…_informative_. In the space of a conversation, she had gotten more out of him than she ever had out of Ulquiorra. _I forgot. I forgot because he's the first person to be nice to me…well, sort of nice to me…in who knows how long. If he's here, it means he's against my friends._

"Well…" he said coyly, "I'm a rather strong god that Aizen would insult if he refused, who he doesn't fully trust as an ally, can't be assured control over, and would not lose sleep over if I was 'lost' due to a failure in his device's design." He sighed rather dramatically in false dismay. "It's so unfair, _everyone_ mistrusts us tricksters!"

_That's the definition of the word 'fair!'_

"If he distrusts you so much, why did you want to come here in the first place?" In a sudden flash of insight, she asked, "Did he promise you something?"

"Ha ha! Promises! A trickster knows the worth of another's promise, child!" his laughter was uproarious. "Of course, I have been paid in pretty words and promises, as many will be. But that is not why I'm here. I answered the call because the _situation_ promises…to be _interesting. _And I have a desire to help in making it even more so. "

Orihime decided she wasn't even going to try to wrap herself around _that_ concept.

"Do not make such a face, Carrot-girl. Are you not the least bit curious about these arrancar that surround you?" He leaned closer on his haunches and grinned. "That pale silent fellow. El Que Llora. Tell me that you don't want to shake him up and see what breaks loose!"

She was scandalized. Did she wonder what went on in Ulquiorra's head? Of course she had. It was human nature to try and fathom the unfathomable. But there couldn't possibly be a phrase more removed from her feelings about her captor/guardian than a desire "shake him up" or "see what breaks loose."

She looked away from Coyote's dark eyes. "There's no way someone like me could ever understand…any of them." She shivered, thinking of how Ulquiorra's eyes bored into her as he pushed at her bruise, evaluating everything, every tiny little flinch. "And even if they tried…I don't think they will ever understand me." _They will destroy me before they understand me. And I will let myself be destroyed before I let myself be changed to be more like them._

Coyote snorted. "I will never get tired of mortals thinking they're so very _different_ from each other. It's like watching each weed in a field of dandelions give itself airs!"

"I…wha…" she valiantly struggled against picturing a field of dandelions back-talking each other. Because she was who she was, it was _very_ difficult to not imagine their arguments, and herself as the mediator of the great dandelion debates—_stop it!_

Somewhere in there, she had had a coherent thought. "But…the arrancar _aren't_ mortal."

"Pft. Not now. But they were, once upon a time. And that means that the twisted creatures roaming these halls have much more in common with _you_ than they do with _me_, by far."

"But you're—"

"Don't worry that pretty little head about it," he said, grinning. "I'm just saying that your inability to understand these, heh heh, _pale-faces_ doesn't stem from what they essentially are, but what this great experiment we all call life has made them. And that is _never_ a bridge too far."

_What life has made them?_ she thought. _Isn't it what _Aizen_ has made them? _"Made them?"

"You _have_ noticed the gaping holes? Their heart is missing, precious thing. That wasn't Aizen's doing, though he successfully and shamelessly takes advantage of it. Heh heh heh, I've always wondered how they keep flies out of there, seeing as most of them don't have tails to flick them off."

_That's right, I remember now. Arrancar are made by Aizen, but hollows happen without him. They happen when a ghost loses its heart. Like Sora. Aizen didn't make Sora into a monster. It happened because Sora was sad. It happened because he loved me._

"Like I said, Dandelion-girl, you have more in common with them then you will ever have with me. This 'chasm of understanding' between you is no more than the absence of one heart."

Thinking of Sora made her chest hurt, and her hand automatically went to her own heart. _Still there. _"You say that like it's not a _big_ difference."

Yipping laughter. "It's not. Take it from a being who's never had a living heart beating in his chest."

She was still skeptical. "Even if _I _acknowledge that we're not that different…an arrancar like Ulquiorra will never agree. We're…" she struggled to find the right word. "We're unblendable. How could I understand him, or any of them, if they don't want to be understood?"

"Find what is missing. Reach your hand through what scares them."

_Something scares them? _"I don't understand what you mean."

Coyote rolled his eyes. "Hearts, Carrot! Think hearts!"

'_Find what is missing. Reach your hand through what scares them. Think of hearts.' _Her eyes widened. _He couldn't possibly mean…_ "You want me to put my hand in his…in their…"

"She can be taught!" crowed Coyote.

She scrunched her nose and turned away. _"_That's _disgusting!_"

"So is dissecting corpses, but think about how much humanity has learned by doing it." Coyote scratched at his ear with one of his hind paws. "Hmph, I should think you'd be all for it. Seems to me all human culture is just a bunch of elaborate rules to decide who gets to put whose appendages in each other's holes."

Her cheeks flamed scarlet, and she turned back to scold him for such a dirty comment. The first word died on her lips as a surprised gasp, because by the time she'd twisted around, he was gone.

She stood there for a full minute, staring at the emptiness. Slowly, when she was truly sure he was gone, she pulled off her long nightgown and began to dress in her Hueco Mundo uniform. She was just about to slip her arms through the sleeves of the bolero when Ulquiorra silently appeared in the doorway with a food cart in tow.

"Breakfast, woman."

Slowly, carefully, she walked to the table a nameless arrancar was setting with plates and sat down. As she took her first bite, she surreptitiously glanced at the place on Ulquiorra's chest she knew was empty behind the fabric of his coat as he stood sentry by the door.

_Put my hand into the hole left by his heart_, she thought to herself. Would the knowledge, the understanding gained even be worth the risk?

_"Find what is missing." _So says a self-confessed trickster. _But which one of us is he trying to trick? Ulquiorra, or me?_

* * *

_**Nights Since Orihime's Disappearance: 6 / Soul Society**_

After the feral-looking Captain Zaraki had strode from the room with Kusajishi clinging to his shoulder, Ukitake gave her a cursory once-over and officially declared the transfer a complete success. It had been a little different than she'd expected. Although she could feel a stronger, slightly foreign power coursing through her body, she didn't automatically gain any 'skill' along with it. It was sort of like the feeling she had that one time she drank too much caffeine. She could feel an almost nervous energy flowing through her that craved direction and purpose, even though she didn't really have the knowledge to guide it.†

As if sensing this directionless energy, Hraust insisted on taking Tatsuki out for immediate basic training. After agreeing that she would take charge of Tatsuki for the remainder of the day, and that Abarai would be responsible some more formal, zanpakuto-specific training early the next afternoon, she and the Valkyrie immediately departed. Pausing only long enough to obtain a large leather bag from the kitchens, which Hraust threw over her shoulder, they walked to the tree line that led off to the undeveloped forests surrounding the Shinigami…_what is this, a town? A village? _Whatever one called it, Hraust was leading them away from it and into the 'wilderness,' even though dusk was falling.

"Follow," said the Valkyrie, just before she bolted through the trees.

Trying to keep pace with the Hraust, she discovered that she could easily run faster than she could before. Not nearly as fast as she'd seen some of the other Shinigami move, but much faster than a normal human. She thrilled at the sensation of power and speed that pulsed through her legs as she dodged nimbly around trees, but it only lasted a few minutes before the first attack came. Even though she had been ahead of her, Hraust had somehow looped back around to slash at her with the axe—_while moving. _She nearly crashed into a tree trunk, but was able to cut around it and use the split second of cover it gave her to draw her sword.

_Even my reaction time is faster. _It was lucky Tatsuki has some experience with katanas from the dojo. Although hand-to-hand would always be her specialty, as the school's best student, her coach had insisted she have cursory training in all the basic weapons, including swords, staffs, and sais, in case there was ever a call for multi-specialty competitors in the competition circuit. Without that experience, blocking Hraust's blows would have been impossible; Kusajishi's power might smooth and quicken her reactions, but they did not give her knowledge on how to use the sword itself—it could only greatly enhance skills she already possessed. Her head hurt at the thought of all she would have to learn. _This arrangement would not have been viable for Asano or Kojima. _

Tatsuki couldn't say for how long they intermittently dodged through trees and cut at each other, but it had become increasingly dark and she had lost all her sense of direction completely.

The woman had finally stopped when they broke through the tree line and came upon a clearing. Moonlight glinted off the surface of a large pond roughly the size of an American football field, which stretched out at the base of a steep slope. It wasn't too steep to walk up, but even on this side of the pond she had to crane her neck up a little to see the top of the rise. It occurred to Tatsuki that they were at one edge of a small valley. She was so turned around, she couldn't even begin to place herself on a map of Soul Society. _Not that I've been here long enough to even have a 'map' in my head. _It would still be some time before she had landmarks memorized in the town proper, let alone out here in the forest.

Hraust tossed down the bag she had been carrying. "We will rest here for a few minutes." _How generous. _Although she wasn't breathing heavily, Tatsuki thought the woman had suggested the break for herself as much as Tatsuki.

Hraust rummaged in the bag for a second and produced a large ceramic jug in a rope harness—the kind that wayfarers in samurai movies carried around supplies of sake in. Despite its large size, she grasped its neck in one hand and gulped from it as she dug around in the bag with the other hand, then tossed something to Tatsuki, which turned out to be a messily wrapped onigiri. Tatsuki took a taste only to find that the woman had pulled out another for herself and was devouring it in large bites.

"Alright," said the woman, swiping at her mouth with the back of her wrist. "We will now begin this evening's training."

Tatsuki blinked. "Haven't we been training this whole time?"

The other woman shrugged a shoulder. "The real reason I brought you here was this." She indicated the pond a few dozen yards away.

"What about it?"

"We're going to fight while standing in the water."

They had just fought a number of battles while running through trees. This seemed simple enough, but when she thought it through, Tatsuki realized what a handicap the water would be. Whether the bottom was mucky or covered in sharp little stones, her footing would be terrible. And if she had water up to her shins, her reactions would be slower and clumsier. Not to mention it wasn't warm out, and continuous exposure to the cold water would sap her strength and make her feet numb, slowing her even more.

When she saw that Tatsuki had understood, she nodded. "Good. Undress." And with that simple pronouncement, she began to untie the front of the sleeveless leather jerkin she wore.

"You want me to take my clothes off?" she balked. "It's freezing!" Truthfully, the night air of Soul Society was only about 50 ˚F, but that was still too cold to be running around mostly naked, especially if she was going to be standing in water. _Damn snow woman._

The Valkyrie gave are a look that suggested she was being childish. "You will be even colder when your clothes get soaked and you have nothing dry to put back on." She punctuated her remark by tossing down the jerkin, revealing a few layers of linen wound tightly around her chest. "Take my word, you will be grateful for it later."

As the woman turned her back and started pulling at her boots, Tatsuki could see what first appeared to be a tattoo high upon the center of her back, just under the base of her neck. It showed a hash mark on one side of a thick slash line, and three more hash marks on the other. On closer inspection, the way the skin was raised it could only be a burn, as from a branding iron.

"What's that symbol?" she asked. She had come to realize in the short time since meeting her that it was better to ask frank questions, no matter how rude, than to wait for answers to be offered. The Valkyrie did not stand on politeness.

Hraust stilled for a moment while untying her laces, but smoothly resumed an instant later. "It is a seal. In order to come to this realm, I had to seal a full third of my strength. Two thirds was the absolute limit of discordant power I could retain and still cross the threshold." † As if remembering, she reached over and grabbed the large ceramic jug, a gulped out of it. "All that is left now is to optimize what is left for this realm."

"Won't that mess you up when you go back to…"

"Asgard."

"Yeah, Asgard. Won't anything you 'optimize' here be 'non-optimized' there?"

"It's nothing a month in a mead hall will not fix."

Tatsuki tried, but couldn't imagine this stern woman blushing-drunk and singing drinking songs in a hall. Though maybe mead halls weren't like that after all. _Not everything you see on TV is right. _"And how do they unseal that other third?" she asked as she kicked off her straw sandals.

"In all probability, they can't." She said this casually, but Tatsuki heard a certain intensity in her voice as she said what came next. "Remember this. Nothing of value can be achieved without sacrifice." The woman flung down the last of her clothes as if to signify that the conversation was over. She had kept her undergarment linens on, and Tatsuki was suddenly thankful she'd gone back and retrieved her modern, wire-in bra and panties from her human body. While she knew from experience that wrapped bandages under a gi could offer support, for night-fighting in a cold lake, give her elastic and wires any day.

She kicked off her socks and shrugged out of her kimono and hakama. Finally, she unsheathed her zanpakuto and tossed the scabbard with her clothes, having no place to tie it. Wearing nothing but her thin undergarments and holding nothing but her sword, the pale-gold toned metal flashing in the moonlight, she followed Hraust to the edge of the pond.

"The rules are simple. The fight begins when we step into the pond. The fight is over when you do one of two things: draw blood from me, or make my knee or any part of myself above it touch the water."

"That's it?"

Hraust nodded.

"So, just to be clear, it's over when I scratch you even a tiny bit?"

"Yes."

"I win if I force you into deeper water? I win if I make your finger graze the surface?"

The woman smiled in a way that could only signify amusement, and nodded.

"Alright," said Tatsuki. "Let's do it." She cut back a few dozen feet from the Valkyrie so that she would not be within reach of the her axe when her foot first touched the water, then crashed into the shallows. _Tiny, sharp rocks instead of muck_, she thought, wincing at the pain in her bare feet before ignoring it.

The first exchange of blows was instantaneous, and it was all Tatsuki could do to get her sword up in time. It hadn't been more than a minute before Hraust had tripped her headlong into the water. She came up sputtering and shivering, and saw the Valkyrie's smug smile. There wasn't a drop of water on the woman.

_Oh_, thought Tatsuki. _I see. _She shook herself off, and prepared for a long fight.

* * *

_**Nights Since Orihime's Disappearance: 7 / Soul Society**_

Some days, it seemed to Renji that he would just have to resign himself to getting metaphorically kicked in the face.

It seemed like months had gone by since he'd first been called before Captain Kuchiki to be subtly told he must travel to Valhalla instead of Hueco Mundo with his nakama. Then he'd been called before Ukitake to be ordered to retrieve Arisawa from Karakura, earning himself a few new bruises in the process. _Then_ he'd had to meet with Urahara only to learn that he couldn't even join up with Rukia and the others, as they had already switched realms and sealed their passage. † _Then_ he'd been called back before Ukitake, Kuchiki, and the ever-stern Hraust to discuss Tatsuki's training.

He still wasn't sure if he'd done the right thing, volunteering to partner with the Valkyrie to train her. The Captains had originally tasked him with finding a suitable instructor based on Tatsuki's known skills and temperament, of which someone had mystifyingly appointed him the resident expert. _It's because I know her friends, _he knew. _It's because even if I don't really know _her_, I have the most profound understanding of the people close to her heart. _He mentally shrugged, _Next to Rukia, I guess. But she isn't here, and I am. _Something told him that Rukia wouldn't be the best option to work with Tatsuki, even if she were here, though he couldn't put his finger on why.

Still, what he knew about Arisawa was precious little, beyond a stubbornly violent streak, a proficiency at hand-to-hand, and an almost supernatural ability to take a beating. In the end, he decided that having the most background knowledge of her home and her friends probably made him the best candidate to work with her, despite the chip on her shoulder, and despite the necessity of working closely with the Hraust, whom he never could seem to get on solid footing with.

_Admit it_, said a voice in the back of his mind. _You had more than a passing thought that if you take care of Ichigo's childhood friend, maybe he'd look out for yours. _He would not confirm or deny such an irrational thought, even to his conscious self. Yet he also couldn't deny the thought that Arisawa would need someone to look out for her as a _person_ and not a fighter, given how draconian her lead instructor was in her training. _And here I'd thought the Shinigami Academy was rough on cadets._

In any case, everyone present, even Hraust, agreed that this was the best option. And _now_ he was being called before Captain Kuchiki yet _again. _At the crack of dawn no less. He could only wonder how his afterlife was about to get infinitely more complicated, as it invariably did when he was called into meetings these days.

He walked into the office and stood before the Captain's desk, trying to prepare himself for the worst. Kuchiki did not greet him, formally or otherwise, before getting down to business.

"As of today, I have begun the official process to nominate you as the permanent replacement for the Captain of the Fifth Squad."

It wasn't often that Renji found himself at a complete loss for words. This time, he couldn't even muster a reactionary facial expression. He just continued to stare at Captain Kuchiki in an attentively blank manner while words repeated themselves over and over in his mind.

The only way he knew it wasn't a dream was Kuchiki's response, which was to stare neutrally back at him without deigning to elaborate on the shocking and unexpected news he'd just calmly pronounced as if he was reading a dinner menu. The faint note of disapproval is his gaze was not something Renji could imagine up, even in his most realistic daydreams.

With his brain stuck in a loop, it seemed like an eternity before he could force anything past his lips.

"….What?"

The Captain was as friendly as ever. "I will not repeat myself."

"I mean, I heard you but…" he shook the back of his head. _Focus. This is like, your one opportunity to ask questions about this! Don't waste it stuttering like a moron!_

"I meant, 'Why?'"

A faint line appeared between the other man's eyebrows, a miniscule gesture of annoyance. "Obviously because I think that you are the best suited for the position," he said, though somehow he was able to make it _not_ sound like a compliment.

_Arrrrrrrrgh!_ thought Renji. _Why does this have to be so fucking difficult? _After allowing himself a brief moment to scream inside his own brain, and _not_ allowing himself to face palm, Renji forcibly reminded himself that it would be pointless to get a 'Why' out of Kuchiki on this. _The man is never going to fall all over you with praise, idiot. Just accept the promotion nomination as the compliment itself and find out what your next steps are._

Renji bowed from the waist, as he should have earlier, and said, "What is the process for selection, and how do I proceed?" _Not bad at the professionalism, when you care to try, Abarai._

"In the past, Central 46 has been the entity that approves, assigns, and rejects nominees. However, because of Aizen's massacre of the entire membership, Central 46 will not be reestablished and fully functioning for quite some time." _Huh_, thought Renji, realizing he didn't even know how members of Central 46 were elected…or appointed…or whatever it was. _And on top of that, Captain Yamamoto must be extra suspicious that any reestablished agency might be pawns of Aizen. After all, he destroyed the entire council in order to pretend to _be _them. Who's to say he didn't plan an added level of conspiracy by arranging his own men to be appointed as replacements when the deception was discovered? _That was the problem with betrayal, he mused. _Once you've experienced it, you see the potential for it everywhere. _In any case, he couldn't help but be glad central 46 had no part in Captain selection this time around.

"As their destruction coincides with the largest and most unexpected gaps in leadership the Gotei 13 have ever experienced at once, and on the eve of a great battle, it is not possible to wait until after the war for their approval of candidates. To that end, all the remaining Captains formed a committee to decide and agree upon the qualities that a candidate must possess and have explicitly demonstrated to be considered."

"So, basically, the Captains are going to choose their peers themselves," said Renji.

Kuchiki nodded.

"Alright, so, what's the rubric for being chosen? What do I have to accomplish to prove I'm worthy?"

"There are four different criteria. The captains must universally agree that all have been met by the nominee.

"First, the candidate must have achieved Bankai, of which you are among the very few current Shinigami seated officers to qualify. This alone places you in a rather small competition pool."

Renji nodded. "I bet Captain Zaraki loved 'agreeing' to that qualification."

Kuchiki didn't betray his annoyance in his tone, but a very slight twitching of his eyebrow gave him away, regardless. "Upon his rather boisterous and crude objections, we agreed to the possibility of exceptions if there were abundant and undeniable reasons to make them." _Translation, _thought Renji, _all the other captains thought it was easier just to not argue the point._ Even if the requirement made Renji a shoe-in, he had to admit Captain Zaraki had a solid point of contention—Zaraki himself was the poster child for 'abundant and undeniable reasons' to make such an exception. "However, semantics aside, we firmly anticipate all viable nominees to have achieved Bankai."

"Second, as the role of Captain includes oversight of subordinates, each candidate must posses the ability to personally teach, advise, and evaluate students." Renji snorted, silently and to himself. _I can guarantee that there were quite a few Captains that didn't give a rat's ass about this requirement. I wonder who insisted upon it? _Given how little the Captain of the 6th Squad had actually trained him, Kuchiki certainly wasn't on that list._ Ukitake and Unohana, probably._

"They must have demonstrated this ability by having produced at least one successful student," Kuchiki finished.

It only took Renji a second to make the connection. "Arisawa."

Kuchiki gave a barely perceptible nod of his head. "You were tasked with the selection of a suitable Shinigami teacher for the girl, not only because of your knowledge of her…situation, but because Ukitake wanted to test your ability to properly evaluate the needs and talents of a potential student."

"So…you guys already knew I was the best choice for the job, and you just wanted to see if I got the right answer?"

"More precisely, we wanted to know if you would shirk the responsibility of admitting it when you realized it."

Absurdly, that honest truth hurt his feelings a tiny little bit. _Shut up, idiot, you passed that test anyway._

"So then…I've passed that criteria too?"

Kuchiki shook his head. "Though you have proven enough potential in this area to validate a nomination, you must still produce a competent student. Thus, fulfillment of this criteria will depend largely on Arisawa's success."

"Even though she's not just _my_ student?" he asked. Could they really give him credit—or blame—for Arisawa if Hraust was her primary teacher in truth? For that matter, Hraust had publically, and rather memorably, already established herself as Arisawa's millstone. Would anyone even believe he had anything to do with her education, even given that it _was_ true?

Kuchiki barely even paused, then said. "Third, a nominee must demonstrate the ability to work closely and efficiently towards a common goal with individuals whose beliefs, ideology, and practices conflict with, or even directly oppose, their own."

When the Captain had started talking, Renji had at first thought that Kuchiki had simply ignored him and carried on with his explanation. It took him a second to realize that the continuation _was_ the answer. "_…must work closely and efficiently with individuals whose ideology directly opposes there own."_ Now _that_ requirement he understood. Squad Captains were an utterly diverse lot of people. From Mayuri to Ukitake, Zaraki to Unohana, the Captain's rank was filled with commanders as different from each other as night and day—but that _still_ had to work together in a weird sort of harmony, be it to defeat an enemy or approve a promotion nomination. They might not have to like each other, but they _did_ have to function as part of the Soul Society without ripping each other apart for petty—or not so petty—squabbles. Electing a Captain that couldn't at least marginally work with the others was a recipe for destruction…or even another civil war.

Renji wouldn't say that the Valkyrie's ideology was so wholly different from his own, but their propensity to clash with each other was not a secret. _Between getting off on the wrong foot, which was admittedly my fault, and her excessively violent methods, it's been hard to get on the same wavelength. _Showing that he could work with Hraust to produce a successful student would knock out two birds with one stone—albeit a difficult stone to toss.

"Finally," Kuchiki continued when he saw that Renji had understood, "the candidate must possess the ability to place his or her obligations as a Shinigami, and the responsibility they have to lead their subordinates, above their own personal wants and desires." Renji could feel the sudden intensity of Kuchiki's stare, even though it seemed to remain neutral and aloof to the untrained eye. _I will bet any money, any sacred possession I own, that _that_ is the qualification _he_ insisted upon, _thought Renji. _Hell, he probably proposed it himself._

"Further, they must have demonstrated this ability by having made such a difficult choice in course of their duties."

And there it was.

It felt like he had been trying to figure out _why_ the world was conspiring against him going to Hueco Mundo for months, years even. First he'd been held back for a trip to Valhalla, then to snag Arisawa off the street. Sure, the justifications seemed reasonable. Kuchiki needed a second in a dangerous realm, and it flattered him to think he'd been highly enough regarded by his Captain to be selected for the job. _And that's probably still true, Abarai_, he thought to himself firmly. _Do not drive yourself crazy trying to second-guess it. _And it was clear enough from Arisawa's violent reaction to him that Captain Ukitake had been correct and truthful; she hadn't established a bond with any of the Shinigami, and none of them knew who she was.

But _then_, then when he finally felt his duties had been completed, and he could catch up with his nakama in whatever the first realm they travelled to was, Urahara had informed him that no, in fact, they had already moved on. "_The second transfer was set to happen yesterday. I'm very sorry," † _the man had said from beneath his striped hat.

The only reason Renji hadn't exploded into a fit of pointless anger and tried to follow them anyway was what the man said next. _"But don't worry. Despite Kurosaki-kun's most ardent demands, it will be a month or more before any of them actually reach Hueco Mundo."_

_That _had taken Renji aback. _"You mean, they snuck out of here in order to get there faster…and they'll probably end up getting there about the same time the war kicks off in earnest?" _he'd asked, still dumbfounded.

"_Actually, at exactly the same time," _said the man, waving his stupid fan and grinning with secret knowledge.

"_So…them going…it was all pointless? And what about Orihime, if they can't get to her…if she's stuck there a month…"_

"_Fu-fu, nothing's _ever_ pointless, Free-loader-kun. They'll spend these weeks earning combat experience from teachers more qualified than Soul Society could ever offer. And do not fret over Orihime. As I told Kurosaki-kun, they _need _her alive…and I have it on Good Authority that she'll be getting a little help of her own." †_

That was all the man would tell him. And while it did calm him, untwisting a bit of his gut, it had still made him feel utterly like crap. _Even if they're not in immediate danger, who knows what kind of crap they'll face in the other realms? _This was doubly frustrating, since as a Lieutenant, he probably had a much broader knowledge of the different realms than any of the others. _Not that I thought that crash-course after I was promoted would ever be good for anything._

There he'd been, convinced that the universe just hated him, only to find out that the whole thing was really a test. _Captain Kuchiki's_ test specifically, regardless of any other official criteria. The moment he'd showed up to leave for the Rainbow Bridge as ordered was when the Captain had decided to go through with the nomination, Renji was certain of it. "…_they must have demonstrated this ability by having made such a difficult choice…" _

He _could_ have gone to the Kurosawa Bridge. No matter what Kuchiki had ordered, no matter what Rukia had asked of him, it had been within his power to abandon his post and go. He had wanted very badly to do so. He had had a choice.

Why had it felt like he hadn't?

_Anyway, it doesn't matter now. I made my choice, and now I'm stuck here. _Stuck with a possible promotion, true. But still…

"That is all the criteria for selection. You must satisfy them before we commence the war in earnest, which gives you approximately one month's time. That is all. Dismissed." With the last few words, Kuchiki turned to gaze out the window, a clear sign that he should leave.

Renji stood there for a minute before finally being able to blurt out what he had stayed to say. "Thank you, Captain."

There was a short pause before he replied, "It is my responsibility to nominate a candidate I find worthy. It is not necessary to thank me for fulfilling my duties any more than it is for me to thank you for doing yours." He did not turn around.

As he was leaving, it occurred to Renji that that was the closest he might ever get to direct praise _and _a 'thank you' from his Captain.

_Alright, well, if my promotion directly depends on Arisawa's success, I'd probably better go see how she's doing. _Hraust was supposed to have been working on some basics with her the previous night. Considering her harsh methods, Tatsuki might only now be getting any rest, given the early hour. Or, from what he'd observed of her so far, it would be entirely within her character to wake up early for solo training to push her own limits.

In any case, though he had agreed to touch base with her in the early afternoon, he decided it'd be best to check on her now. _After all, if the Valkyrie—or she herself—pushes her to death, then holding me back to nominate me will have been a colossal waste._

It took him a while to walk the long, scenic distance toward the 11th's compound, where the humans were being housed. Given their propensity for not playing well with others, their building was quite far-flung and isolated. As he approached, he noticed quite the crowd forming. _They're on the upslope above that large pond. _Although he couldn't see the water from here, he knew it rested at the bottom of the valley that stretched along a few hundred yards from the main path.

_What are they looking at?_

As he got closer, he noticed that they were all very intent on whatever was happening far downslope, presumably at something in the water. All of them were men, but that wasn't surprising, given that nearly all of them were also from the 11th. There _were_ a few outsiders, who stood out because they were the only ones not wearing wolfish smiles. He could see Hisagi standing at the edge of the crowd with a neutral expression,† and was on his way to ask him what was going on when he caught sight of the two boys that were picked up from Karakura with Arisawa. _Asano and Kojima. That's their names. _Both of them stood there with impossibly wide eyes fixed toward the pond, their mouths open in shock. He changed course to walk up behind them.

_Either people are fighting to the death in that pond, or naked woman is bathing in it, _he thought as he walked the few final steps that would give him a clear view of the water. _Though if it were a death match, I'd expect there to be more cheering. _The crowd was strangely silent, despite their intent leers.

The last thing Renji expected was to be _almost_ right on both accounts—simultaneously_._

Further down the sharply dipping slope, Arisawa and Hraust were crashing through a shallow part of the pond, hammering each other with steel weapons.

In their undergarments.

Whereas the Valkyrie's skin was untouched and her so-called 'clothes' were dry, Arisawa had dozens of small, shallow cuts all over her body, which were plainly visible because so much of her body was exposed.

And the parts that weren't exposed… _Holy shit, doesn't she know that you can see her—_

Suddenly, he understood why everyone was deathly quiet. The sharp slope kept everyone out of her line of sight, and Hraust was demanding all her attention. As long as they didn't make any loud noises, she had no idea she had an audience.

Fifteen minutes ago, his taciturn Squad Leader told him he was nominated for a Captain position. Fifteen minutes later, he was yelling to get the attention of a hyper-violent, mostly-naked human girl. _Why? Why is my life so strange?_

"ARISAWA?"

* * *

She _almost_ had her. She was _so_ close.

It felt like they had been fighting for hours. It was entirely possible that they had been, as the sky was turning grey with the first rays of the morning. She barely noticed them, as her entire world had shrunk to the size of this pond and this fight.

She had yet to put a scratch on Hraust, nor had the woman's knee touched the water line. The Valkyrie's linen garments were still dry, while Tatsuki had been forced into numerous dives straight into the freezing pond. Even her hair was dripping.

Yet despite the cold, despite the pain, and despite the fatigue, she could feel the borrowed power rising up and becoming easier to utilize. She could even feel the unique flavor of her own reiatsu trickling in a larger quantity, becoming slowly sharper and…more…_present_.

If she still was in her human body, she knew, she wouldn't have lasted more than an hour. She didn't lack for will power, but the human body has limits dictated by physics. Between Kusajishi's power and her own spirit form, simple physics wasn't binding her in the same way. It was as if she were a vessel that was being continuously refilled from a reserve supply even as it was emptied.

She wasn't sure if she was getting faster, more accustomed to Hraust's fighting style, or if the other woman was simply slowing down, but the longer they fought, the closer she came to finally putting a mark on the Valkyrie. She was confident that the level the other woman was fighting at was nowhere near her own maximum, but it didn't matter. She had set the wall Tatsuki had to overcome.

_There. She's left herself open…right…_there!

"ARISAWA?"

Her blade missed the woman's skin by a mile as the sudden shouting voice forcefully jarred her out of concentration. She took a split second to get safely out of Hraust's striking range—and then some—before she pivoted to face the direction the yell had come from. What she saw made her freeze in place, Valkyrie at her back or no.

She craned her neck up, and saw that upon the sharply rising slope that had been behind her for most of the fight stood about two dozen men. Half were smiling at her—leering at her crudely—and the other half were glaring accusingly at…a tall red head. It looked like the rest of the crowd had been gathered for quite some time, but it was clear in the shocked expression plastered beneath that ridiculous red hair that the person who had shouted her name in disbelief had only just arrived. And to make matters worse, slightly behind him and on either side stood those two idiots, their jaws hanging slack and their eyes bulging out of their heads, as if they couldn't comprehend what they were seeing. Somehow, Keigo and Mizuiro's presence was worse than the strange crowd.

How long had they been there? How could she not have noticed twenty plus men staring at her? _I didn't even feel their reiatsu._

Slowly, as if somehow that would give reality time to change itself into something less infuriating, Tatsuki panned her gaze down to look at herself.

She was standing in a foot of water.

Soaking wet.

In nothing but thin white undergarments that were plastered to her. And completely see through.

Her brain short circuited, and suddenly she forgot every single thing she had ever known except that she must do the following two things: 1) cover herself with her arms, and 2) berate all the males staring at her without meeting any of their eyes until they feared for their lives.

However, in the split second between her realization and the loosening of her grip on her sword—_If I drop the sword I can use both arms—_a sharp and painful sensation erupted across the right side of her face. She looked down again to see blood dripping onto her poorly concealed right breast.

Slowly, she turned back to see Hraust merely the length of her axe away, her arm extended, the blade still very near Tatsuki's face after making a deep cut in her cheek.

"Next time," she said, "I will take an ear." The other woman was completely uncaring about their audience, though she surely was aware of them by now. _Her senses are much better than mine, she probably knew about them all along and never said anything! Hell, she probably…_

Tatsuki's eyes widened, and she tightened her grip on her sword as she realized the exact nature of her situation.

"You…you set this up," she said angrily. "You looped us around so many times during the fighting in the forest… you made us double back here so we'd be closer to the buildings than I thought! So that I'd be practically _naked_ in front of the entire damn Seireitei!"

The glacial blue eyes didn't even show a hint of remorse. "If you can fight a Valkyrie, in cold water and under emotional duress," she said, "you can fight anyone. Anywhere."

"You expect me to keep fighting? Like this?"

"I will expect you to keep fighting if your skin catches on fire and your hair transforms into serpents. I will expect you to keep fighting if it starts raining blood and hailing blades. I will expect you to keep fighting if you vomit up your left lung," she said. "So yes, I expect you to fight me, regardless of who can see your womanhood."

"But-!"

"You will cease being childish. Your shame is pointless. Are you so different from other women, that you are hiding something they have not already seen?"

Tatsuki bristled. _I'm sure those two morons haven't seen much of anything,_ she thought angrily. But that was beside the point! "I don't give a flying fuck! They haven't seen _mine! _And I didn't want them to!_"_

"How inconvenient for you that a battle to the death doesn't usually bow to what one wants." From the shifting of her stance, Tatsuki could tell the woman did not have much more patience for talk left in her. "You will learn this lesson _now_. When blades talk, all else is silent."

Tatsuki continued to stare at her in disbelief, painfully aware that everyone upslope could hear the entire exchange. "What are you saying? That I should just…become some sort of robot that fights well and doesn't feel a fucking thing? I want to protect my friends, but I'm not going to give up myself to do it!" Becoming an unfeeling fighter was only one step short of becoming an unfeeling killer. _That's not a compromise or a sacrifice—that's a trap. _"Is that what _you_ did?"

For the first time, a flash of intense anger passed through the other woman's face. It was less than an instant before it was gone, but it was enough to prove Tatsuki's last statement wrong. Her words, though, were still a shade sharper than they'd been. "Did you think it was wise to nearly lunge at the man who insulted you in the meeting hall, before I intervened? Did you think that, with the power level you had at the time, such a fight would end with anything less than your blood splattered all over the spectators and your torn body decorating the hall?"

She sneered. "It is easy to see _your_ weaknesses, girl. You are hot-tempered, foolish in your anger, easily drawn into fights over wounded pride and misguided insecurities. I am not asking you to become an unfeeling automaton. I'm demanding you be a woman and not a child, and control yourself. The Shinigami can teach you blades and fists and spells. This is the lesson _I _will teach you."

She broke off to stare halfway up the slope, and even without seeing the redhead behind her, Tatsuki could feel that Abarai had started to come towards them to intervene. The message in the Valkyrie's gaze was as clear as a giant billboard. _'Do not _dare_ interfere.' _And he didn't. Tatsuki didn't blame him, since she wouldn't have either. _Because she's right._

Hraust surged forward, and the battle was restarted. Despite her harsh words, Tatsuki couldn't sense agitation in the other woman, in either her spirit energy or her movements, which were as strong and precise as ever.

It was like she had to start all over again, re-finding her footing and suffering another series of crashes into the cold water. Her concentration being so thoroughly broken, she had to regain it in stages until she had once again entirely forgotten about the crowd of letches staring at them from above. It was even more difficult this time, as every time she crashed down below the surface, the crowd howled.

She could not say how many hours when by until, with a burst of energy and a glimpse at a fleeting weak point, Tatsuki lunged forward and struck so forcefully that the other woman's empty hand reached out behind her for balance…

And one fingertip skimmed the surface of the water.

Hraust deflected her forcefully, and she landed on her ass in the water. By the time she looked back up, she saw that the woman had rested her axe handle on the ground, signaling the end of the fight.

She said simply, "Good." She didn't smile, but she looked pleased. She then strode back to the shore, picked up the ceramic jug, and drank deeply.

Tatsuki was exhausted. It took everything she had not to lay back in the shallow water, but she managed in the end, since it would be pointless to let herself drown now.

Since she wasn't focused on the edge of someone else's blade, she could sense the reiatsu of one tall redhead behind her. She twisted around and looked up to see him standing in the water holding her dry kimono open for her. With his height, the water level barely touched the hem of his hakama.

"It may seem harsh, Arisawa, and…a little insane, but I think that woman really is going to help you get what you want." He shrugged one shoulder, "I will too, although I think a good percent of my job will be making sure she doesn't take things to far."

Tatsuki sighed and tried not to dwell on how ridiculous her life had become. She found her numb feet and stood slowly, letting him drop the relatively warm kimono on her shoulders. Still facing away, she said, "The guy who brings my attention to the fact that I'm putting on a show for a bunch of creeps instead of staring with the rest can call me Tatsuki."

She paused for a second, and turned around, gripping the kimono closed in front of her, but holding her head high. "I'm sorry for kicking you earlier. I really thought you were going to erase my memories."

He shook his head for a second as he looked at a point of nothingness up and to the right, as if remembering. Tatsuki recognized the look of a man that was also realizing his life was just a ludicrous series of events. "I'm partly to blame, too. I'm sorry it came to that. You can call me Renji."

She reached out a dripping hand and shook his much larger one. It wasn't like they hadn't already met many times, but somehow the gesture felt appropriate.

When they released grips, he lifted his sleeve to swipe at the blood still runneling down her right cheek in dark streaks.

"Now let's go get you a towel."

* * *

_Author's Note 2:_ Teh plot, it thickens! I've got to say, I've been excited about this chapter ever since I started writing this story.

I know I originally promised an Ichigo POV in this chapter, but every time I tried to write it, I had all these great thoughts for the next Tatsuki POV, and would get diverted. Basically, this is how the story _really_ wanted to get written. We'll catch up with the crew in Duat next time.

THANK YOUS go to Fraggranark, Marie Darkholme, InfiniteDragon, Xoroth, StormBrisingr, and MiraResQNU for their awesome and thoughtful reviews. I consider myself extremely fortunate to get so many detailed comments and reviews, and I really truly appreciate it! Thank you as well to everyone who's favorited or alerted this story.

As always, please feel free to review or PM me comments, critiques, questions, or points of discussion for this story. I will do my best to answer them. Even if you hate it, I'd love to know why! Seriously, I'm actually kinda dying to know what people thought of this chapter in particular.

* * *

_Story Notes:_

**El Que Llora: **I feel like most people know this by now, but just in case you don't—sound out Ulquiorra phonetically. Ul – key – ora. His name bears a striking, non-coincidental similarity to the phrase "el que llora" (el – kay – yora) which is Spanish for "he who cries." Dun dun dun!

**No one would refuse to answer Tatsuki: **Teh irony, it burns!

**The knowledge to guide it: **I don't know if this is clear enough, but Tatsuki's transfer is different from Ichigo's (since they themselves are different). For Tatsuki, she's essentially been fitted with a high-volt battery. She has a huge power source, but her own system's capacity is essentially the same low-volt limit, so she can't access it all at once. The training she's going to go through during the course of this story is going to stretch her capacity so that by the time she can access her own power, she can do more with it. This will be explained clearer as time goes on. I hope I didn't confuse anyone even more with this 'explanation.'

**Two-thirds was the limit: **To orient you, Byakuya is a Captain whose power is at pretty much the absolute limit for crossing the threshold between realms. In her own realm, Hraust is a half-again more powerful than Kuchiki. In Soul Society, he is stronger than she is, since though they would be equally powerful after her sealing, but she's suffering side effects and he isn't. Hence, she is going to "optimize what is left" by chugging sake and wolfing down onigiri, the traditional food of the Shinigami realm.

**Sealed their passage: **See the note below.

**Already moved on:** Urahara is lying. This conversation happened on "day 5," and the first transfer can't happen until the end of "day 7." Knowing Renji would chase after his friends if he thought there was any possibility of success, he deceived Renji so that he would stay in Soul Society and be in the position to 'compete' for the Captain nomination. Not only was this requested of him should it become necessary, he also knows all roads lead to Hueco Mundo in the end, anyway (like he tells Renji), and there's no reason Renji can't both have a shot at a promotion _and_ help his friends when the real battle starts.

**A little help of her own: **Is he talking about Coyote…or someone else?

**Hisagi standing at the edge of the crowd: **When Rukia and Orihime are training, before Orihime's kidnapping, Ukitake and Hisagi silently watch them. Before he leaves, Hisagi says something to Ukitake like, "watching two girls training isn't bad." Therefore, I couldn't resist putting him in with the crowd. But while he very well might be a closet pervert, I think he's also a pretty upstanding guy, so he gets a "neutral" expression instead of the "creepster" look.


	14. By the Rising of the Moon

_Disclaimer:_ I do not own any of the characters in the following work. All recognizable anime characters belong to Tite Kubo. All others characters are adapted from a diverse spread of cultural and mythological lore. I am making no profit from this story.

_Author's Note 1:_ I've been suuuuper busy—hence the long delay—and was forced to take a day off work. And it was awesome. And it resulted in a chapter being published. Best forced-rest ever.

* * *

**Chapter 14: By the Rising of the Moon**

_Out from many a mud-walled cabin, eyes were watching through the night_

_Many a manly heart was beating for the coming morning light_

_Murmurs ran along the valley, like the Banshee's lonely croon_

_And a thousand pikes were flashing by the rising of the moon _

-The Rising of the Moon

by John Keegan Casey (1867)

* * *

_**Nights Since Orihime's Disappearance: 6**_

He'd come here to _fight_, damn it.

But if there was one thing he'd learned in the realm of these ancient desert gods, it was that what he wanted and reality were two different things.

Ever since they'd first started spending their days separated, the four travellers hadn't talked much between themselves about their experiences training with the Egyptian gods—or anything else for that matter, as the uncertainty of Inoue's wellbeing hung heavily in the silence, strangling all banter. Ichigo could only assume that the others were having as rough a time of it as he was, not only from their silence, but from the injuries that were triaged every evening. Rukia had come back the first night with a long, bloody cut across her collarbone that had taken forever to heal using the diminished kido she was restricted to in the strange realm's oppressive reiatsu. Her only comment was, "_I'm not sure if we'll be switching trainers, but if any of you spar with Bast-sama, she's even quicker with a kopesh* than you think." _She had frowned, "…_and I had set my expectations pretty high."_

Chad's response had been even more brief just last night, when he'd asked about the long, shallow punctures in rows along the other boy's arms that could only be the tooth marks of some great beast. "Sobek"* was his friend's only response. Ishida said nothing of his training sessions with the jackal god Anubis at all.

Ichigo couldn't blame them, since he didn't really want to talk about his training sessions with Osiris either. He _particularly_ didn't want to tell them about how he hadn't even lifted a sword since the training had begun.

Instead of physical training, the elder god had made him sit at the base of his throne in the hall and…_focus._ That was really the only way to describe it. _You are gifted with power beyond the reckoning of many of your peers,_ Osiris had said the first day. _But until you learn to control it, it will be a burdensome curse just as much as a boon._

And just like that, the other god reached out and tried to crush him with his reiatsu.

There hadn't really even been much of a struggle. One minute he was standing on his own two feet, staring at the green-skinned god, the next minute he was flat on his back, pressing against the stone with his shoulders and trying desperately to force air into his lungs. _I've got to fight back, _was all he could think about, but every time he reached for his own wellspring of power, the pressure on his chest increased ten-fold.

"_You cannot fight the force of my will by putting it in contest with your own, Kurosaki Ichigo. This is the seat of my power. You are throwing stones at a mountain." _Ichigo could feel the cords pulling taught in his neck as he strained for breath.

Then, suddenly, the pressure had disappeared. "_You have much to learn, young one."_

Ichigo had gasped like a hooked fish flung mercifully back into the water. _"What the hell?"_

"_You have been told that stronger reiatsu is more debilitating in foreign realms. And yet when I attempted to suppress you with the force of my will, you tried to combat it with your _own_ spirit power." _Osiris had tilted his head in amusement. _"You are trying to crash head-first through a stone wall instead of simply climbing over it."_

"_I still don't understand what you mean," _he had said, frustrated and trying to rein in his breathing.

"_Then it is for you to discover my meaning."_

With that vague advice, the training session lasted the better part of the day—miserably and with much pain—until Ichigo finally realized that the answer was not to flare up his reiatsu, but to draw it down and suppress it. _I'm such an idiot_, he'd thought when he figured it out. _Reiatsu from opposite realms reject each other, and I am in _his_ realm. Instead of trying to push his power back, I should have been trying to give him less of mine push around. _

It was no secret that he sucked at suppressing his own reiatsu. Plenty of people had been more than happy to point it out to him, as well as the potential consequences—that he couldn't conceal himself properly, that he couldn't sense others coming because he was blinded by his own power. But frankly, all those arguments had never really amounted to too much trouble for him, so he hadn't bothered to try and fix it. _Until now. It wasn't a problem until now._

From that point forward, his sessions with Osiris consisted of only one thing: Osiris trying to flatten him to the ground, and him trying to resist it by coiling his reiatsu into the smallest tightly controlled space he could manage.

He understood the utility of it. He understood that if he were to delve through who knew how many other foreign realms, all of which were antagonistic to his own brand of spirit power, strict control over his reiatsu would be vital. He knew that if he was going to walk straight in to Hueco Mundo, he didn't want his reiatsu flaring like a torch, and he didn't want to be blindsided by an enemy. But…_I'd still rather be training with a sword._

Just that morning, Osiris had said something that made Ichigo think he might have spoken the thought out loud. _"Never fear, Kurosaki Ichigo. Where before you were at the mercy of your unconscious whims, I am merely teaching you how to turn a faucet. When the time comes, a man who can turn a faucet down can also turn it up." _

Today was the seventh day. That night, all four of them would travel to a new realm, with new hosts—though their current hosts seemed pretty tight-lipped about which realm that would be. _Maybe they don't know_.Though he found that rather hard to believe.

Still, Urahara had pressed the idea that _knowledge is power_ upon him, and he couldn't help thinking that there was a distinct possibility that no future realm they passed through would be as forthcoming as the gods of Duat had already been. _I should probably find out what I can, while I still have the opportunity._

"I got a question," said Ichigo, when the Lord of the Afterlife signaled that he would allow a break. Actually, it wasn't _his_ question per se, as much as it was something Ishida had pondered aloud last night. It was the closest thing to a collective conversation they'd had since their arrival in Duat.

Osiris nodded slightly. "You may ask."

"Why are there doors between the Underworlds?" They were using the doors to travel from one realm to the next until they could finally reach Hueco Mundo, but…if the powerful gods couldn't pass through the doors, then what were they for? _It doesn't make sense_, Ishida had said, which was code for _'I'm a suspicious pain-in-the-ass.'_ Be that as it may, the guy had a point. It _was_ weird.

Osiris considered him for a moment. "We have worked extensively on your control over your _ba_, but your tongue will need a greater control over your words if you are to successfully travel across the realms."

Ichigo blinked, then scowled. "I don't see any reason to get offended about it. You _said_ I could ask you a question."

The green-skinned man laughed. It was a rich sound that reminded Ichigo of grass in the spring. "You misunderstand. When you ask a god a question, you must choose your words with great care_._ You are dealing with old beings, who can catch you in the coils of your own words and strangle you with them if they so choose."

Something cold crawled down Ichigo's spine, and he did his best not to let it show. _Urahara assured me that arrangements would be made along the way…_but even he had not known or had control over what realms they would be traveling through. There was every possibility that they would end up guests in a realm of deities that they could not trust, or that might see their presence as an opportunity to acquire more power—if not by force, by trickery.

He gave his head an imperceptible shake to clear it. _Worry about that stuff when the time comes. _"Alright. Thanks for the advice." He lifted his hand to scratch the back of his head. "So…what exactly was wrong with how I asked that question?"

"It was not wrong, so much as it was not what you meant to ask. The word '_why'_ implies intention."

"…okay…"

Osiris smiled. "Asking 'why' something exists assumes that it was created for a purpose. That it has an intended meaning."

"…So?"

The smile got wider. "So what if its creation, like that of the doors, was unintentional? What if there was no 'purpose' to its existence? What if there is no meaning, in and of itself?"

"Then I guess you'd just tell me that the doors are there for no reason and move on," said Ichigo, struggling to remain patient and still not seeing where this was all going.

"Ah, but _'purpose' _is different from _'use,'_ Kurosaki Ichigo. I may use an object in a manner for which it was not designed…and yet be truthful when I deny that it has a purpose." The look in the god's eyes was serious. "And for many of the creatures you may meet, even the ones bound to speak only the truth—_especially_ them—it is only the technicality of truth that counts."

Somewhere over Ichigo's head, a light bulb clicked on. "If I don't ask questions in a very specific manner, even creatures bound to speak the truth can lie to me. Or…I guess it's not _lying_, but they can deceive me."

Osiris nodded. "Maybe, for the little questions, it would make no matter. But if the time should come that you must rely on a strange god for the truth, you must make the truth unavoidable in their response. Some of the creatures you encounter, even some of the Elder gods themselves, barter answers for treasures. _Real _treasures. Your life, your soul, your first born child. You should take the utmost care to never enter into such a bargain, but should the day come you cannot avoid it, it is important you not waste your sacrifice on a worthless answer."

Much like Osiris had squashed him to the ground, Ichigo forcibly squashed his growing fears down into the sandy stone beneath his feet. "So…instead of asking, 'Why are there doors between the Underworlds,' I should have asked, 'What are the doors between Underworlds used for?'"

Osiris's lips parted to reveal bright white teeth, and Ichigo got the distinct sense that something rather ominous lay in that smile. "An excellent question, Kurosaki Ichigo, and well-asked. Although deities do not normally travel between realms through these portals, there are things that we pass through them. Primarily nightmares."

Ichigo raised his head sharply. _"What?"_

"I am not a Lord of Dreams, Kurosaki Ichigo, but I can tell you that there are a very many ways that a person might come to experience a nightmare. Many of the nightmares humans suffer are produced by the human brain itself—a biological phenomena in truth. However, realms where punishments are meted out may also serve to create such dreams, which then must be transported to the correct realm for delivery. Usually by that pantheon's god of dreams or sleep."

Ichigo thought back on the restless sleep he'd been able to manage for the last few nights, and the nightmares that had plagued him. Dreams of being chased through forests. A dream of needles. A dream of breathing through a broken chest and staring up at silhouetted figures in a brightly backlit room.† _Did I create those myself? Or were they given to me?_

"_Why?_" Was all he could find the voice to say.

"It…might be confusing for you, but they are a by-product of some of the…more severe punishments."

He blinked. "And these dreams…they're _for_ specific people? That's why they have to be transported to a specific realm, right?"

"That is correct."

"Does that mean…" he thought of all the nightmares he'd had after his mother had died. Of endless rain showers of her blood, of the weight of her dead body crushing his down until it buried him in the earth—even the one where her corpse reanimated and blamed him for her death. _Was it me, or some god? Was it my subconscious or…_"Are you telling me, when people have these types of nightmares, that they've earned it? That somehow, the death gods that punish bad people in the afterlife manufacture these dreams for the bad people that are still alive?" The prospect that the answer could be yes made him extremely angry and desperately scared at the same time.

"No." Osiris looked at him with what could only be a sympathetic expression, and Ichigo suddenly wondered if he knew about the nightmares of his mom. "No, Kurosaki Ichigo, you did nothing to earn the nightmares that have been given to you. Nor does anyone else. If that were how it worked, then the wicked would die of sleep deprivation."

"So they're just random?" he exclaimed. _What a bullshit system! _"What kind of sense does that make? That's _stupid_!"

The corner of Osiris's mouth quirked upward in a rueful smile. "That is _life_, Kurosaki Ichigo. But in any regard, think of it like a poison that is spread out among everyone, billions, instead of just an unlucky few. Is that not the most responsible way to disperse such a burden?"

Ichigo opened his mouth, but in the end he could only give an non-committal shrug of his shoulders. _I guess it is._

"Now," said Osiris, "prepare yourself for the next round."

_**Nights Since Orihime's Disappearance: 7 / Duat**_

Bast's rolling gate led them through the corridors, a stone jar* with a jackal's head on the lid elegantly balanced in one hand. _ "Goods for trade," _Bast had said when Rukia asked what was in the jar. Ichigo barely avoided shivering, thinking about what nightmares might be kept inside, and for who.

"Although it was good for you to meet us first, sweetlings, it is a shame as well. Of all the places you will visit, you will spend the least time with us, since you came to us but four days before the full moon."

The day they were all waiting for had finally arrived. Instead of being led back to their rooms after training, they were being taken to the place where the doors would be accessible. Ichigo had thought that he would feel relief when the moment of their transfer finally came, but instead he was only filled with a dozen different kinds of anxiety.

She finally stopped and turned before a section of stone wall that looked no different from the yards and yards of wall on either side of it.

"One last thing," said the woman as her steps wound her through the four members of the group, like a cat coiling through a crowd. "Before you leave, would you like to pass a message to your friends? This might be your last chance for quite a while."

A glance around told Ichigo that everyone else was as confused as he was. "What do you mean?"

"As you know, while you have been here preparing with us, Ma'at has been in the Seireitei helping prepare your people," she said. She smiled with slightly pointed canines. "And she _is_ my sister. We cannot guarantee you any lines of communication once you leave our realm. But if you would like her to convey a message for you, you may do so through me."*

_What kind of message? _The very idea made him slightly uncomfortable. It was as if she was asking him for his last words, or some sort of final farewell. He didn't want to give voice to such overly dramatic thoughts, anyway—if for no other reason than thinking about them would make them _real_, would acknowledge the looming possibility of death. And even worse, the possibility of his _failure_.

"Thank you for the opportunity, but I do not have any such message," said Ishida.

"Neither do I," said Chad.

Ichigo found himself shaking his head. He was surprised when the woman's golden-green eyes turned towards him. "Really? No words for your friends, who are working so very hard to be strong enough to help you?" she purred. There was something smug and knowing in her voice.

Ichigo could feel his eyebrows draw together in a cross between a scowl and a confused expression. _The Shinigami in Soul Society abandoned Inoue. They tried to order me to abandon her too. Even if they have a good reason for doing it, what am I supposed to say to them? _He looked again and her sharp smile. _What is this woman looking for?_

"I don't have anything to say to them," he told her. He winced when it came out harsher than he had meant it to. "I'll say it when we all get back."

Her gaze went on for several seconds more before, slowly, one of her eyebrows arched. "Ah, I see." His own eyebrows drew closer together. _What do you see? _Her smile was piercing. "I think some people are _born _for surprises, Kurosaki Ichigo."†

_What?_

"I have a message," said Rukia.

The three boys turned to look at her, but her eyes were locked on Bast's.

Ichigo looked away, suddenly embarrassed for forgetting. _Byakuya. Of course she'd want to say something to her brother. Even a brother like that. _After all, if Karin and Yuzu were in Soul Society, he'd have words for them too.

"Um. Two, actually," she continued.

Ichigo frowned before a feeling of guilt stabbed at him. _Renji. _He had still not forgotten the look on her face when Osiris had told them one evening that only arrangements for four travels had, or would, be made. _Urahara Kisuke was very clear, _he had answered Rukia's inquiry if any other travelers had come seeking entrance at the gate—or if they would even know if someone had._ Only four of you. _He had not elaborated any further, and Ichigo got the distinct feeling he did not want them asking questions. For all they knew, Renji was climbing all over the Kurosawa Bridge, looking for the way in.

_She had been so certain he would catch up with us. _Thinking about it now, if he could pass a message to Renji, he sill wouldn't. If he was trying to reach them and couldn't, Ichigo didn't want to rub it in. _That's how _I _would feel, anyway._

While he was reflecting, Rukia had already leaned forward and spoken into the goddess's ear. The woman nodded. "I will make sure they hear it."

At that moment a certain warmth spread in the room. It was a subtle thing, but he could feel it on the tips of his ears, the ends of his fingers.

"Ah, the moon has reached its apex." The woman's eyes narrowed as she drew a kopesh from behind her back. _Where was she hiding that? _"It is time."

She drew the blade across the stone wall, but instead of the screech of steel on sandstone, the blade seemed to cut through the fabric of reality as a pale, blue-white light spilled from the gashes.

The goddess reached up with a hand, the nails now sharpened into something looking like claws, and pulled at the top of the "door" until a ragged portal gaped open.

She turned to look at all four of them, standing in the glare of the brilliant light, and her voice dropped from a feminine, alluring purr to a rough growl. "Do not step in any of the rivers. Pay the man. Heed the ruler, but trust only his given word. Do not interfere with any of the realm's workings. And whatever you do," her eyes narrowed dangerously, "do _not_ eat the fruit."

The edges of the door flickered, and a loud crackling noise echoed in the corridor. "_Go!"_

Ichigo didn't need to be told twice. He leapt forward into the rip.

* * *

_**Nights Since Orihime's Disappearance: 7 / Hueco Mundo**_

It was always night in Los Noches. But for some reason, this night felt deeper and darker than the previous ones, despite the bright crescent moon hanging in the sky. _The fake moon. The artificial sky._

Maybe that was why she couldn't sleep. _Or maybe it was what Aizen showed me this morning. _

He had called her before him to show her the Hougyoku, under the pretense that he trusted her with the information. But she was not completely stupid. _He was trying to intimidate me. He was trying to show me how hopeless the situation really is._

What good was knowing the secret of the arrancars' creation if it was but one way Aizen could form an army? _Even if I reject the Hougyoku, even if I use my power to return it to a state before it existed, he is still building an army using my own blood. _Though, that did not mean she had given up on the notion of destroying it. Even if it wouldn't remotely level the playing field for Soul Society…_Doesn't every little bit help? And besides, what else can I possibly do?_

She stood gazing through her window, the pale moonlight casting shadows of the bars across her face. Barefoot and in her nightdress, the chilling bite of the smooth stone tiles beneath her radiated up through her legs. It made her wish for the fuzzy sleeping socks she had worn when she was still at home.

"I am coming in, woman." She knew without looking that he would move to stand inside her room, just to the left of the entrance.

_What is he here for? _Although he had not stood sentinel over her at any of the three meals she had eaten that day, she had made certain to finish every last bite from the plate, precisely to avoid such a visit. He could not possibly be here on the subject of food. And certainly not this late into the hours she would normally be sleeping.

_Is he here because of something Aizen said to him after my visit. Is he here because he knows I cannot sleep?_

She was not sure how long the silence stretched between, but he made no effort to break it, or inform her why he had come.

_Maybe he is trying to figure _me_ out, and doesn't know, or care, how I feel about his methods. _As skeptical as she was of Coyote's suggestion that she make more of an effort to understand the arrancar…_at this point, what do I have to lose?_

"Ulquiorra," she said, "can I ask you a question?"

He was utterly silent, and yet she knew with every fiber of her being that every fiber of _his _being was focused on her.

"What is it like?"

"What is what like, woman?"

"Not having a heart." she said, still turned away and afraid of what he might glimpse on her face if he could see it. She asked her questions to the moon instead. "Does it hurt?"

He was silent for a long while. So long, she thought for sure he would simply ignore her, until she heard the distinct sound of zipper being pulled.

She turned around to see he had unzipped his jacket down below his collar bones, below that spot that gaped open in a perfect circle. Instead of looking at it, he was looking at her_._ "It does not hurt. It does not feel like anything," he said tonelessly. "That is the entire point."

She didn't know why he had answered her with such uncharacteristic truthfulness. Maybe he thought she was asking in order to better assimilate with her new "allies," and that indulging her would make her more tractable. Maybe he wanted to observe and evaluate her response to such a stark admission. Maybe he didn't think about it at all, but given the nature she'd observed so far, that one was a stretch.

It didn't matter why he'd done it. The important point was that he had. She could not say why, but somewhere in hearing his answer, her decision was made.

She rallied every bit of courage she could muster and took a few steps towards him, then a few more, until she was standing closer than arm's reach. He stood there unmoving, his right hand—his _sword_ hand—still clinging to the zipper and his eyes fixed upon hers. That was good. If his eyes were on her face, they would not be on her hands.

_They will kill all my friends, _she thought. _And me too, the minute they don't need me. _If she was fated to live there, forever trapped between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea…_Maybe I should get my feet wet._

With a speed she had not ever known she possessed, she thrust her fingers forward, towards the gaping hole in Ulquiorra's chest.

His own speed was incomprehensible. If he had understood that she was not trying to strike him with a closed fist, but put her fingers _through_ his chest, she would not have had the least chance of success. But as it was, he grabbed her wrist instead of blocking her fist, and her fingers uncurled forward to touch the searing cold rim of his wound. _Wound. _She had not thought of it that way before, but it could be nothing else. The concept of it burned at her understanding nearly before her fingers even reached forward.

The instant that it happened, their eyes snapped back together, and in his deep green orbs she saw the most concentrated look of anger, surprise, and wild, desperate fear that she had ever seen in the entirety of her existence. She could only just recognize the separate emotions before she had the feeling of falling forward, _through_ his eyes and into the darkness of his pupils.

And then her universe filled with the sound of her own screaming.

* * *

_**Nights Since Orihime's Disappearance: 8 / Soul Society**_

Whether on Earth or in the afterlife, Tatsuki Arisawa was not one of those girls that loved to shop. That wasn't to say that she was rushed or careless when making purchases, but she was by no means a 'browser,' and only ventured to the local mall if she had a specific purpose in mind.

Perhaps that was why she found the market place of District 27 so very, very tedious.

In fact, the whole day had been even more tedious than she imagined it would be when Renji had told her the plan earlier that morning.

"_I arranged for someone to give you some…more specific help getting in communication with your zanpakuto," _he'd said, generously glossing over the frustrating session they'd had yesterday afternoon in which she'd failed at doing just that. _"But they can't meet with you for a few hours yet. Thing is, I also have a meeting this morning, and Hraust-san won't be back until nightfall. I thought instead of wasting the morning, you should join the guys with their training. Ikkaku and Yumichika are taking them to one of Soul Society's civilian districts to exercise their powers._

"_No fucking way," she'd said sternly._ She couldn't remember if Ayasegawa and Madarme had been present among those gawking at her the day before, but those two idiots had _certainly _been there—for who knew how long, and letting other people stare at her without saying a goddamned thing. She'd been too tired to seek them out and pound them into liquid that night, and as far was she was concerned, until she got both of their blood on her knuckles, the issue was unresolved. And if she was being forced to participate in a training _play-date_ with them, that wasn't going to happen.

_No fucking way,_ she'd thought again. She might have to roll over and swallow her pride where the Shinigami were concerned, but not for _those_ doofuses.

As if sensing her thoughts, Renji had rolled his eyes._ "You're going to have to get over it, Tatsuki." _He'd wisely refrained from saying anything else about 'the incident.'

"_There's a lot of things I _have_ to do, but working with those morons isn't one of them."_

"_Too bad it's not open for debate."_

"_You're right, it's not. I'm not going."_

After that, the conversation had deteriorated into a circular argument until Renji had threated to throw her over his shoulder and cart her to the meeting place like a sack of potatoes. Despite the most violent flailing she could manage, he'd gotten her halfway lifted when she started yelling, '_Alright, I'll go, but I'll walk there myself damn it!' _She'd ignored the triumphant look he only half-tried to conceal as he'd set her back on her feet.

She'd followed him to the meeting place, stiff and prickly as an angry cat, only to have that anger deflate upon seeing the two boys. Mizuiro had possibly the most awkward look on his face she'd ever seen on the usually cool and collected boy, and Keigo…_He looks like he's going to piss his pants. _Keigo was cowering behind the shorter Mizuiro and pointedly not looking at her as his knees knocked together. _Well, at least they know how badly they fucked up._

"Arisawa," started Mizuiro.

"Forget it," she said sharply. "You two are idiots, and you better never let something like that happen again."

When both of them started rapidly shaking their heads, she huffed out a breath and let go of her plans for beating them bloody.

Tatsuki hadn't seen Madarme when she'd arrived, but suddenly he was there behind Keigo—who was still cowering behind Mizuiro—smacking him in the back of the head audibly. "Have some pride, would ya?"

"And you," he said to her. "Stop making such a fuss just 'cause Soul Society knows you got nice tits." The look on his face wasn't lecherous or teasing, but bored, and Tatsuki would later reflect that he meant nothing by it but exactly what he'd said. Still, although her time with Hraust had knocked most of the lunge-and-destroy hotheadedness from her, she still couldn't help but bristle at his comment.

Just as the muscles in her arms tensed, Renji clamped a hand down on her shoulder that would have kept her from taking a step forward, had she planned on picking a fight. "Play nice," he said, leaning down so that she was the only one that could hear him, "or you'll be going everywhere by potato-sack express for the next week." She'd nodded stiffly, and he flash-stepped off to whatever was keeping him from their training session that day.

"Right," said Ayasegawa, lifting his hand in a gesture that said 'moving on,' but with elegance, "Arisawa-san, when Renji asked if you could join us today, we were able to fit you into the practice we'd devised for the boys in District 27's market place."

"What will we be doing in the market today?" asked Mizuiro, as Keigo absently rubbed the back of his head.

"You," Madarme said, jabbing a finger at Keigo, "are going to exercise your powers by approaching random people without them noticing you. You're gonna _keep_ doing it until you can take something from one of their stalls without them noticing." He ignored Keigo's flustered response to point at Mizuiro, "_You're_ going to make one of the vendors think you're someone else and get them to tell you somethin' they didn't mean ta say." The boy quirked an eyebrow, but nodded.

"And _you_," he said, pointing at her, "are going to pinpoint the moment they fail."

She furrowed her eyebrows. "What do you mean by that?"

"He _means_ that you should use the power the Lieutenant gave you to monitor _their_ reiatsu and see if you can recognize when they let their power slip." He batted his befeathered eyelashes. "This is an exercise in fine-control of your own reiatsu, which is needed to monitor theirs so closely, and also in distinguishing small quantities of reiatsu with precision. Basically, if you can read them really well, it will be harder for enemies concealing their power to go unnoticed." His grin was lopsided. "And if you do even moderately well, you'll be light-years ahead of Kurosaki." Madarme made a snort that conveyed agreement and disdain.

Two hours later, they'd had a small margin of successes. Keigo, surprisingly, had made the most progress towards his goal, managing to stand before a pottery stall for a full five minutes before the shop owner, standing less than seven feet away, finally glanced up and saw him standing there. _All that's left now is for him to work up the nerve to grab something. _She had been mentally shouting after minute number two that he should '_just_ _take the pot already!'_ but Keigo wasn't a shop lifter, and she had a feeling they'd be doing this for quite a while longer before he satisfied his bald teacher. Mizuiro had so far managed to get some strange looks, but other than that, he'd had yet to clearly convince anybody that he wasn't who they thought he was.

Tatsuki was struggling. While she could feel when their reiatsu clear and sharp when it was working, as well as the absence of it when it was not, pinpointing the moment one became the other was like trying to find 'red' on one of those computer color scales; everything just blended together. She'd ask their 'teachers' for guidance, but the Shinigami had all but disappeared once they begun. Tatsuki couldn't decide if they were being lazy or trying to force everyone to rely on their instincts and figure out their problems on their own.

After his latest failure at just grabbing the damn item already, it was Keigo's turn to choose the stall they'd be practicing on.

"Alright, alright. Let's try…" he panned his vision down the booths until his eyes landed (predictably) on a beautiful woman selling flowers. "_…_heh, let's try _her." _She started to roll her eyes at the drool in his voice, but stopped them dead in their tracks when she took a closer look at the woman.

She clutched at her chest, certain her heart had stopped beating.

"Arisawa?" said Keigo, lechery forgotten and concern flooding his voice. "Is everything okay?"

"That's…that's…" her voice wavered.

"What is it?" said Mizuiro, his eyes moving between her and the bright-haired woman she could not pull her widened, disbelieving eyes from. "What's wrong?"

"That woman…" she said, breathless.

"What about her? You know her?" asked Keigo, who looked like he was uncertainly trying to decided whether or not to put a hand on her shoulder.

_Know her? Know her? That woman put more bandages on my scraped knees than my own mom._

"Masaki-san," she forced out. "Kurosaki Masaki." She pressed her fist harder against her sternum. "That's Ichigo's mom."

* * *

_Author's Note 2:_ Not one, not two, but _three _cliffhangers. The rumors are true, I'm totally evil. I'll do my best to not leave these hanging forever. I'm curious to know where you all think the next world Ichigo and co. will be going is.

I know some of you might be like, "Hey! I wanted to see the others spar with their Egyptian instructors! What happened to that?" In order to keep Tatsuki's story line moving, I'm trying to not get too hung up on Ichigo's story line. However, I still want to get a bit more screen time for Anubis and Sobek (who didn't get any), so I've decided that we'll get to see some of that in flash-back. That way, I can keep the story moving forward, but also show the good bits. I hope you don't feel cheated.

THANK YOUS go to InfiniteDragon, Xoroth, Marie Darkholme, Fraggranark, Shinkansen, dragonlayer, rogue-angel82, and winter winds for their awesome reviews. I really truly appreciate it! Thank you as well to everyone who's favorited or alerted this story. I'm always shocked at how many of you there are.

As always, please feel free to review or PM me comments, critiques, questions, or points of discussion for this story. I will do my best to answer them. Even if you hate it, I'd love to know why! (Seriously).

* * *

_Mythology Notes:_

**kopesh: **An early Egyptian sword with a curved, hook-like end that was great for disarming (or even de-shielding) opponents. It kind of look like a elongated question mark.

**Sobek: **A strong, physically powerful Egyptian god with the head of a crocodile. As crocodiles were particularly feared by the early Egyptians, who depended on the crocodile-full Nile River for sustenance, Sobek represents all the strength and ferocity of this animal, as a power to be both respected and appeased.

**stone jar: **It's a canopic jar. The same type of vessel that Egyptians used to put the vital organs in during mummification.

**You may do so through me: **Even though they're separated across two different realms, Bast and Ma'at are Elder goddesses, _and _sisters. They have their own mysterious ways of communicating.

_Story Notes:_

**backlit room: **Any of these scenes look familiar?

**Born for surprises: **Just in case you didn't catch it, Bast knows about Tatsuki, Keigo, and Mizuiro being trained in Soul Society, through whatever communication she has been in with Ma'at. However, she does not know that _Ichigo_ doesn't know. When she made the offer, she figured he'd have something to say to them. When she realizes from his answers that he is unaware what has happened, she decides not to tell him. Partly because she doesn't want to drop something like that on him just as he jumps realms (which would undoubtedly be bad for his focus) and partly because she thinks it's _hilarious._


	15. The Story of Every Man

_Disclaimer:_ I do not own any of the characters in the following work. All recognizable anime characters belong to Tite Kubo. All others characters are adapted from a diverse spread of cultural and mythological lore. I am making no profit from this story.

_Author's Note 1:_ **Warning**: there's some disturbing imagery and references to torture in this chapter. Nothing that you probably haven't seen on TV, but the faint of heart should prepare themselves. This is a weird chapter…I wrote the first half of it while recovering from some very painful complications from dental surgery, so it might be a bit trippy. Please bear with it. Also, make sure you check out the end of the chapter for information on a poll I just put up in my profile.

* * *

**Chapter 15: The Story of Every Man**

_My descent is the story of every man_

_I am hatred, darkness, and despair_

-The Serpentine Offering

by Dimmu Borgir

* * *

**__****Nights Since Orihime's Disappearance: 7 / ?**

The first thing she became aware of was the blistering, inescapable agony. At first, it was wild and unfocused, sparing no area of her body the unbearable burn of its touch. But as the seconds ticked by, the world of her pain came into better focus, and she became slowly aware of the splintering pain localized in her fingers and toes.

Confusingly, the second thing that dawned on her was that she was male. Not in a way of startling realization, but in the heavy falling of the identity upon her shoulders, filing her mind with the details of who she was, who she'd been, the life she hoped to someday live. She had _always_ been male. The bloody woman sprawled upon the floor, her eyes pleading, was his wife. A woman named for a flower, who sang in the kitchen and had to hide her smile when he tried (and failed) to be cross at their children.

The memories of Inoue Orihime were still present. The shape of her true identity was settled in the back of his (her) skull like a spectator in the elevated seat of an arena. In this way, there existed no internal conflict, no confusion or panicked flight to figure out what has happened to him (her). She was Inoue Orihime, and simultaneously she has always been this man.

"I will ask you again. Where are the rebels?" It took him a second, but then it was there, the memory filling in the spaces. He spat blood out of his mouth and remained silent, until the man with the sword struck him hard across the face with the hilt. Again.

"Husband, please…" his wife's cry was plaintive, desperate. For every moment he was staying silent, they hurt her too. If she knew where the Resistance was, where their charismatic leader had gone to ground, she would have told them days ago. It is for that very reason that she did not know; why he had kept that information from her.

His hands were tied behind his back, wrapped around a wooden support in his own home, securing his body in a kneeling position. His arms and legs seemed to end before his hands and feet, where the world simply became a nexus of pain structured from a framework of bamboo splinters that had been shoved under all 10 fingers, all 10 toes.†

The pain did not matter. Not the bamboo, not the arm broken in two places, not the iron nails that had been driven into his thighs. Not the crushed pepper than had been rubbed in the wounds. Not even the deep, oozing cuts they had made in his bottom eyelids and cheeks for his tears to runnel through, burning the open flesh with their salt.† Some things were larger than oneself.

He was not a rebel himself. Not truly. A simple farmer with a wife and children, he lacked the hollow, urgent desperation of those that truly have nothing left to lose—who fling themselves into conflict with arms wide open. But that did not mean he was complacent with the injustice and cruelty of those in power. And even with all he still had left to be taken from him, he had sheltered and fed the tattered squad of rebels under his own roof. For what they represented, surely, was larger than himself, his wife, and his family.

What they represented was hope.

Hope for a better future, for his children and everyone's children. Hope for justice. Compassion.

"We warned you," said the lead officer while four more laughed over his wife's sobs. "We warned you what we'd do to your little slut if you didn't talk."

_Hope. _The word seared in his chest, the only thing keeping his torn body and frayed mind together as they set about raping his wife.

* * *

The woman named for flowers had been dead, dead and dismembered for three days when they finally understood that they would get nothing from him. His own suffering was nothing to him compared to the agony of watching hers, and with her gone and the kids run off before the capture, they had nothing left to hold over his head.

In a fit of frustrated rage, the lead officer rammed a sharpened metal rod through his chest, just below his collar bones, with such force that it went straight through his body and deep into the wooded post he was tied to.

The edges of his world collapsed in on themselves.

* * *

He's not quite sure what happened after that, as days and weeks go by, and he is conscious of every sliding moment as he remains skewered to the post, staring at his dead wife's severed fingers and imagining that they were still twitching and inching closer. The rope binding his wrists rots, slackens, and eventually breaks, freeing his limbs at long last. But even then, even with the strength that back-breaking physical labor for the entirety of his life has granted him, he cannot pull the iron rod from his chest and remains trapped against the wooden support.

After a day, a week, an eternity, the door of the dwelling creeks open.

"Feh. _There's_ a smell."

He looks to the door and sees two of the men that had tortured him. Dimly, he thinks perhaps this should illicit some fear in his brain. But he has nothing left for them to take, and all he can muster is hatred.

The second one looks at him but does not seem to see him, glancing around the room instead. "Oh, hey. I've been here before," he says.

"Yeah," responds the first one. "Big waste of time."

The pride and satisfaction of having denied them the vital information they desired, of having fundamentally rejected their will, comes crashing down as the man continues. "Wasted nearly a week on that tight-lipped motherfucker when that son-of-a-bitch rebel leader already surrendered his sorry ass a few days before. You'd think someone could have sent a damn scout out with the message. Didn't even get to see his head on a spike or anything."

_Surrendered?_ His hands tightened on the rough metal rod so hard they started to shake. _He surrendered? He was…he was already dead? When they…my wife… _The reality that his sacrifice had been worthless, _less_ than worthless, was incomprehensible.

_I was wrong, _he thought, a sudden, terrible calm descending upon him like a dark shroud. He had valued hope and justice above the lives of his family, but hope did not exist. He had pinned everything on a dream that was dead before the enforcers had even showed up at his door. _If the most valuable thing does not exist, then what value is in anything?* _The searing emptiness he felt, the complete absence of any emotion, was almost a comfort.

"Hey," said the second man. "At least we got to have some good times with the woman. And I hear they caught one of the kids begging for scraps over in the next town. She'll fetch a great price in the red-light district. We should see if we can get a cut of the finder's fee."

He grasped the iron bar, and this time, the strength of his grip made indentations in the metal. With one rough pull, he tore it from the post and back through his chest, ignoring the ripping sensation as it yanked what was left of his heart out with it.†

_I have lost everything of value that I ever had. No. It never really existed in the first place. _If he had truly loved his family as he had thought he had, why would he have endangered them for an illusion as stupid as hope?_ My love could not have truly existed, if I allowed this to happen to my family._

It was all an illusion. Always. _Of everyone that has ever been born, I have realized the true emptiness of universe._†

He tossed iron bar to the floor, where it clattered loudly in the room. _These hands are real. And they will never be too weak again._†

"Hey, was that you dropping stuff? It sounded like—"

The room filled with the sounds of terror and agony as a newborn hollow devoured its first meal.

* * *

_WHAT IS THIS?! _Orihime screamed into the darkness, sobbing so hard that she thought she was going to vomit. _WHAT IS THIS?!_

_**It is his heart, **_came the voice, unbidden and gentle. _**This is what you wanted to see, little one.**_

_His…his heart? _She struggled to breathe under the weight of the excruciating pain. _But everything hurts so much. There's so much _pain_._

_**Yes, there is. There was a reason he threw it away.**_

Orihime was clutching at her chest, tearing at it as it burned like it would soon burst. _He didn't lose it, he threw it away. Of course. _She was not certain why the distinction was so important, but it was. It was not some uncontrollable process, or some freak accident that had separated Ulquiorra from his heart. It had been a _choice. _His choice. Though Orihime had to admit, it wasn't much of one: exist in unspeakable pain, or throw away the very core of your being?

_**Let it go, **_said the voice gently.

_Let it go? _She thought frantically. _How? How do I let it go?_

_**It is not yours. Let it leave you. **_Orihime thought about her own clawed fingers, digging into her breastbone, desperately trying to keep whatever was trying to tear itself out of her _in. I could never do it_, she thought to herself. _Even in the depths of this suffering, I could never give up who I am. It would be forfeiting all the good times too._

_**It is not yours. You cannot heal what is not your own. The longer you give it flesh the longer you both will hurt.**_

_Both? _But there was no point in asking. _The pain, _his_ pain, is alive inside me. He is feeling this horrid thing too._

With great effort, she unbent her fingers and let Ulquiorra's heart rip its way out of her chest.

* * *

When she opened her eyes, she was sprawled on the floor and felt like someone had crushed her chest inside out with a booted foot. With great effort, she looked up just in time to see the tails of Ulquiorra's coat in the doorframe as he quickly left the room without looking at or speaking to her. Despite his haste and silence, she could feel his panic on her skin, though she could not say how, and it made her ill.

_What have I done? _She knew, _knew_ that it had not been her voice alone screaming when she first blacked out. _What will he do to me?_

She stood and looked at the high-risen moon through the bars of her cell, and couldn't tell if she was imagining the echoing sound of Coyote's laughter or if it was real.

_What have I done?_

It would not occur to her until much later that she had no idea who the gentle voice that had coaxed her out of agony belonged to.

* * *

_**Nights Since Orihime's Disappearance: 8 / Soul Society**_

"That's Ichigo's mom."

Nothing but silence followed this pronouncement, as she pressed her hand down harder on her chest, trying to control the frantic beating of her heart. It was then that she noticed that Masaki-san, whom she had thought had simply bent down to straighten a pot of large lilies and was taking her time, had gone completely still in the motion, as if someone had hit the pause button on a DVD player.

"Wha-"

She turned to ask the boys if they were seeing what she was, when she saw that they, too, were standing motionless were they had last been, their looks of concern frozen permanently on their faces. Keigo's mouth was still forming the end of the question he had last asked. _"You know her?" _From the look of things, whatever was effecting them had started immediately after he finished speaking.

But the real shock was seeing herself, her own body, frozen just behind where she now stood with a look of utter distress on her face. _My face, _she thought to herself, taking in the dark circles under her eyes and the cut across her right cheek, where Hraust had sliced her for her distraction.

_I'm dreaming, _she thought to herself. _Ichigo's mom. Everybody being frozen. This out of body experience. I'm dreaming for sure. _The thought made her calmer, because if it was a dream, she didn't have to think about what to say, do, or feel about Masaki's presence any longer. She reached out to trace the angry red cut on her motionless doppleganger's cheek. _Maybe this is _all_ a dream. Coming to Soul Society. Training with a Valkyrie and a ridiculously tattooed guy. I should have known it was too absurd to be true. I'll probably wake up in my bed just as useless as before._

Just before her finger could make contact with her skin, a woman's voice cut through her thoughts. "You are not dreaming, Arisawa Tatsuki." She turned to find the same woman that they'd seen on the banks of the river a few nights past, an imposingly tall and elegant figure with olive skin and dark hair. _Ma'at, _her mind recalled. "Though in truth, dreams are not so dissimilar."

"I…what's happening? Have you done something?" She tried to make it sound as respectful as possible, as even the unsettlingly direct Hraust had spoken about her with deference, but it was impossible to quash the questions altogether. She looked around at all the people standing perfectly still. "Is this…have you stopped time?" She couldn't think of any other explanation.

Ma'at was walking forward with the sort of preternatural grace Tatsuki supposed a god thousands of years old should possess. "No, child. I do not have that power, especially not here."

"But-"

"Be easy. You are safe," she said as she drew closer. "I do not have the power to stop time itself. But I _do_ have the power to make one such as yourself perceive it more slowly." She gestured at the second Tatsuki standing behind them. "This conversation is taking place in your mind, between one second and the next. In that slim moment, your body is as slow as that of your friends, while your mind is free to talk with me."

_Just when I thought things couldn't get weirder. _Seriously, wasn't there some sort of limit on how messed up situations and/or life could get?

"Why?"

Ma'at tilted her head. "Do you know me, child?"

_And weirder still. _Hadn't Hraust asked her something similar?_ Oh well. At least she isn't swinging an axe at me. _"You're Ma'at. It was you that convinced the Shinigami to bring us to Soul Society." She bowed, deep at the waist. "It was wrong of me to never come thank you in person. I am very grateful for your help."

Ma'at smiled. "I know you are." She gestured to her arm, where a beautiful golden serpent coiled around it. "Unlike any other god that will aid you in Soul Society, I have been able to keep my full strength in your realm. And I am much more than you can perceive, even with the Lieutenant's power.

"I am a knower and judger of men's hearts, and I know what it is you keep in here. The good, and the bad. The pleasant, and the painful." She stretched an arm forward to tap on Tatsuki's sternum with one finger. For some reason, the invasion of her personal space did not make her feel as agitated as it normally would have. It was almost as if she had been expecting it, thought she couldn't say why that would be so.

"I could feel the pain and confusion that erupted there upon seeing her," said the woman, gesturing at Masaki. "In the world you see frozen around you, you are about to reveal a certain knowledge to your friends about that woman. Maybe even try to talk to her yourself. And before you can do so, there are a few things you must know."

Tatsuki kept silent and waited for her to continue, not trusting herself to speak.

Ma'at's gaze was piercing, and her eyes made Tatsuki think of the scales on a balance. "First, and most importantly, know this, Arisawa Tatsuki. That woman does not know you."

"That's _ridiculous_!" her mouth spat out even before her brain could process what she'd heard.

"I speak truly. She will not recognize you, or remember who you are."

Tatsuki bristled like a cat. "What do you mean she doesn't remember me?!" she said angrily. "I know it's been a long time but I saw her almost every day for five frickin' years! I would come over after school before my parents got home and she would make me and Ichigo sandwiches! I stayed with them all those times my parents went out of town!"

Without warning, tears started sliding down her face, and her best efforts weren't enough to stop them. "She…she fixed my hair that time I cut a chunk of it out because there was gum stuck in it…You don't just…you don't just _forget _that!" She jabbed her knuckles at her eyes to wipe away the tears. _P__athetic. _She was embarrassed to be crying in front of this woman, a supremely powerful goddess who could do the next best thing to stopping time. And over what? Not being remembered by a woman who made her sandwiches and cut her hair? Why should anyone remember things as insignificant as those?

_Because they weren't insignificant, _she thought fiercely, tightening her fists so hard her nails bit her palm. She wanted to _scream_ at somebody.

_Those years of my life with that family, and even the ones after her death, were not meaningless. _

And there was the crux of it.

Tatsuki took a deep breath, and then another.

There in the still world, her childhood mentally unspooled like a roll of film through her fingers. The highlights all featured one of two things, and much of the time, both at once: Kurosaki Ichigo, and karate.

She had never been a social butterfly, not even when she was little. The aggressiveness that came naturally to her and complimented her skill at karate also made her intimidating and off-putting to other children. While she had frequently recalled to others that Ichigo had been a 4-year-old outcast of the dojo, with his bright orange hair and tendency to cry, she never told anyone that she, too, had been shunned for the opposite extreme: she took fighting seriously, even at a ridiculously young age.

In each other's tiny worlds, they came to the kind of uncomplicated understanding that only small children can make: she would not make fun of his hair, he would not be scared away by her toughness, she would beat up people that picked on him, he would try to get better at fighting for himself and cry less. This unspoken agreement made them inseparable.

The dojo was only ground zero, though. It turned out the two of them lived practically next door to one another,† and when Masaki had learned that her parents travelled frequently on business, she soon found herself at the Kurosaki residence at least as often as her own. She had said it was because someone needed to occupy her orange-haired son while she fretted over two newborn twins and their father worked, but Tatsuki would go to her grave believing it was because Masaki had a preternatural gift for knowing when a child needed a mother, even when the child was not her own.

The spool of her memory snagged on an image from when the twins were only two. Masaki was trying to take a family picture at the zoo to surprise Ichigo's dad, who couldn't come at the last minute due to an emergency patient at the clinic. Ichigo was holding a tiny Yuzu in front of the zebras, which were Isshin's favorite animals, while an as-yet-not-aloof Karin held her arms up and cried to be lifted as well.

Masaki had pushed Tatsuki forward, "Go pick up Karin and get in the picture, Tatsuki-chan!" Her smile was as bright as the sun, and it warmed like the sun, too. She would always remember that that was the day she finally understood why Ichigo had been so happy to see it everyday after karate.

"But…I'm not…"

"'Course you are!" she said brightly without letting her finish. Even at the time, Tatsuki wondered if Masaki had known that the next word in the statement was going to be "family," and if that was what she had been confirming. She stepped forward to where Karin was holding out pudgy little arms to her, lifted her up, and decided she didn't want to know if it hadn't been what she meant.

"Smile everyone!" A copy of the picture of her standing shoulder to shoulder with her childhood friend, each holding toddlers and grinning like idiots while zebras wandered around behind them, was still somewhere in her desk.

She let the memories slide by like river water, so much of them filled with this boy and his mom, and when she was gone, Ichigo alone. Until middle school, neither of them managed to find other friends, though Tatsuki suspected they both stopped trying long before puberty finally rolled around.

And yet…

"_JUST WHAT AM I TO YOU, ANYWAY?"_

It had been at that moment that she could no longer deny the possibility that the thing she had been dreading for some time now was a reality; not only had her relationship with her childhood friend fundamentally changed over time, but he did not care to honor what it had once been, either. She barely ranked as "friend" anymore, let alone "family," if he had ever truly considered her such in the first place. _It's easier for him. He has sisters. All I ever had was him._†

She roughly shook her head, trying to focus on the issue at hand, and still not quite making it. _First Ichigo treats me like 11 years of friendship never existed. Now I find _Masaki_ of all people in the Rungokai, and she has forgotten me? _She pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes, hard enough to see flickers of light, but apparently not hard enough to keep the salt water from trickling out the corners. _Is it really so easy to forget me, that all the Kurosaki's do it?_

In the time she had been angrily wiping at her tears, Ma'at had come closer and put a hand on her shoulder.

"In your fear you have misunderstood, child. She does not remember _anyone._ Not you. Not her son and daughters. Not the man she made them with. She has no memory of her life."

Tatsuki stood there, staring at Ma'at for what seemed like centuries, the woman's words trying and failing to take root in her mind.

"_Why?" _she finally blurted.

Ma'at shrugged a slim shoulder. "The rules are different in different realms. It is rare for any soul not in possession of Shinigami-level reiatsu to remember their life before Soul Society, but it is not unheard of. Those that were consumed by _hollows_, however…" She turned to look at the place Masaki had bent to shift the flowerpot. "When hollows are given a soul burial, the being at the nexus of the void—the person that _is_ the hollow—as well as the souls of those it consumed are all sent here, to the Rongukai. However, the consumption the souls of the victims endured, the…_merging_ of all that reiatsu does not allow for the retention of individual identities."

Tatsuki's train of thought instantly switched rails at the mention of the word "hollow." "You're saying…Masaki's death when Ichigo was nine…she was killed by a hollow?" _All this time? It wasn't some freak accident, it wasn't a hit a run? It was a hollow?_

"Yes."

The first thing she felt was an overwhelming sense of anger. _Can't these Shinigami_ ever_ do their job? Or are they all even less competent than Rukia? _She thought of how embarrassed and small she felt up on the platform, waiting for a Shinigami to offer to train her and feeling their disregard. This new knowledge that those same people had failed Masaki and robbed the Kurosaki family of her warm presence enraged her all over again. _How dare anyone here look down on me?! What good is all their power and skill if they have it and still can't protect anyone? Or is it 'won't'? _She herself had been attacked by hollows not once, not twice, but _three_ times. And even then it wasn't an agent of Soul Society that had saved her, it was—

_Oh my god…_

"And that hollow was destroyed, if she's here, right?" She didn't wait for a response, she knew it had to be true. "Was it Ichigo? He must know it was a hollow! He can't have been a Shinigami and not found out!" _So much about this whole stupid situation makes sense now. _It was like pieces were clicking together in her mind. _Ichigo wouldn't have been able to resist getting involved in a world where the possibility existed to avenge his mother._

"Kurosaki Ichigo knows that a hollow killed his mother, but he was not the one to defeat it."

_That_ was kind of strange, but she didn't have time to ask about it now, because there were so many other implications to what Ma'at was saying that Tatsuki's mind was tripping over itself trying to process them.

"Then he's got to know she's here, right?!" _Oh god, if he does…_ "Has he seen her?!" Before she even finished asking the question, she knew that he couldn't possibly have seen his mother in Soul Society and not had a massive breakdown afterward. Not if she didn't remember who he was. _Though it's not like he couldn't have hid it from me. Look at what else he's hidden. _Still, her better sense told her she'd have been able to smell that kind of emotional turmoil on him, and that it'd be different from the infuriating behavior he displayed when she confronted him about Orihime. _Much_ different.

"No," said Ma'at. "In truth, he is too afraid to even consider that she might be here somewhere, though as a Shinigami he must know it is a possibility. His heart and subconscious has suppressed any thought of looking for her."

_He's in denial. Well that's something, at least,_ she thought, breathing a sigh of relief that he had not been subjected to the nightmare that would have been for him.

"Does _anyone_ know?" She furrowed her brows in anger, "I take it back. Of course _someone _must know. That's how it works around here!" _Soul Society seems like it was made to keep secrets from people that should know about them._

Ma'at tilted her head. "You are correct. Some of the higher ranking Captains know, but only a few."

Tatsuki snorted, running a hand through her hair. "And I'm sure they're keeping it from him for _his_ sake, right?"

"That is one way they justify it, yes. However, you must consider that your friend has earned much enmity working as a Shinigami. At the very least, he has marked himself as an obstacle to all who would stand against his ideals. Kurosaki Ichigo is powerful ally to Soul Society. Can you imagine the danger the Seireitei would be in if someone used Kurosaki Masaki as a hostage? To say nothing of the pain it would cause him?" She smiled sadly, "Even if they were to only tell him, do you truly believe he could keep it a secret from his enemies, especially in the midst of the despair he would certainly feel at her condition?"

Tatsuki just shrugged angrily, not willing to give Soul Society the benefit of the doubt.

Ma'at made a graceful gesture that seemed to say "_Let it go." _"I understand that you are carrying around much hurt from everything that has transpired," said the woman. "I know that you are angry about what has been kept from you, especially by those you love and trust. But you are not seeing the opportunity you've been given in this chance encounter."

"And what is that?" she said doubtfully.

"Now _you _have a secret that is desperately important to someone else, but could cause them great harm if they knew," said Ma'at, looking directly in her eyes. "Now _you_ have to make a choice between what is right, and what is best. Will you tell these boys who she is? Will you tell Ichigo where to find his mother? Or will you keep it to yourself? Burden yourself with the knowledge, instead of letting it weigh on him when he is powerless to change it? What will _you_ do?"

"This is different," Tatsuki managed to choke out, tears of anger threatening to spill again. "This is _different_ from what he did to me! From what they all did!"

"Is it, child?"

_Yes. _She thought. _No. Yes and no. _"I thought you said it was an _opportunity_," she snarled.

"It is. An opportunity to _learn._"

Tatsuki sharply turned her head to the side and let out an angry breath. _I don't believe this. It's like the universe is punishing me. _She grit her teeth together. _First my friends all but betray me with their secret keeping. Then I have to find out the truth from scary strangers. Then instead of getting some sort of apology or acknowledgement, I'm forced into a position where I either have to be the messenger of the cruelest reality that I can even imagine for Ichigo, or become a god-damned hypocrite. _For maybe the first time ever, she wished Hraust were present; fighting to near-death exhaustion sounded like an excellent idea.

"Arisawa Tatsuki," said Ma'at in a tone of complete authority. She couldn't help but turn to look back at her, as if obeying a command. "Kurosaki Masaki is only one of two reasons I came here."

Tatsuki furrowed her eyebrows together in a silent question, waiting for the goddess to continue.

"I am not the only one who wishes to speak with you." She ran a finger down the golden serpent's head, her eyes never leaving Tatsuki's…

And then suddenly, she was in a dojo.

_Oh, for the love of-_

Her annoyance was abruptly cut short when she noticed the man kneeling on the tatami mat in front of her.

Her immediate, knee-jerk response was to leap into a defensive position. But just before her muscles could react and obey her, a calming sensation spread through her body and she automatically relaxed, sinking more deeply into her own kneeling pose. Tatsuki wasn't sure how, but it felt suspiciously like Ma'at was the source.

The man that stared back at her was large. _Very_ large. Though they were both kneeling, she could tell that if she stood on her feet she would still barely be able to look him in the eye.

_Which would be an interesting staring contest anyway_, she thought with a jerk. In a pale, sharp-featured face sat two serpentine eyes of brilliant gold, flashing between loose strands of jet-black hair. This, strangely, did not set her on edge the way it usually would have.

The preternatural calm that was overruling her better reflexes allowed her to absorb his presence in the room, turning it over in her mind, sensing it on her skin. And longer the silence lasted, the more he felt deeply familiar.

"I know you," her mouth said, completely on its own.

The man's head tilted to the side as one eyebrow smoothly arched upwards. _Oh?_

"I know you," she said with more certainty, feeling the phantom pull of a cord through her fingers. _I have always, always known you._

"You're my zanpakuto."

* * *

_Author's Note 2:_ I was originally going to include the entirety of her discussion with her zanpakuto in this chapter, but then I decided not to hold it up another 3 months to add more. Instead, you'll get to meet Tatsuki's zanpakuto for real and catch up with Ichigo's crew next chapter. (I'm writing as fast as I can, sorry!)

THANK YOU! Xoroth, Dreamweaver Mirar, Uruolki, Fraggranark, Shinkansen, reality deviant, RandomImagination, Not-Always-Fanfiction, Delphine Pryde, InfiniteDragon, dragonlayer, Ragnarok, StrictlySomething, and winter winds for their kind and thoughtful reviews. Judging from your posts, I think there will be a lot of readers patting themselves on the back for their wise predictions.

**IMPORTANT!** I have heard all of your wishes that I should update more often. However, as I'm going to be madly writing a doctoral thesis, there's no way I can publish my normal length chapters more frequently than I already do. HOWEVER, I've been thinking about it, and I might be able to update more often if I publish chapters about half the size of the longest ones. So, more like around ~4,500 words per chapter and 1-2 POVs instead of ~8,000 words and 3-4 POVS. To be honest, it's happened a bunch of times that a chapter with 3 POVs will get held up because the one in the middle or at the end is giving me trouble. But…for some reason I'd feel like I'm cheating if I switch to the short chapter format—they go by so quickly! SO! I'm leaving it up to you, the readers. I've set up a poll in my profile page. Please go and vote for which option would be the most satisfying, we'll give the most popular choice a shot. **PLEASE VOTE. **If you have any additional thoughts on the matter, feel free to post them in a review, or PM me. I love feedback!

* * *

_Story Notes:_

**All 10 fingers, all 10 toes: **I wanted the hollows in this story to carry into their Hollow form aspects of whatever terrible life event predisposed them to becoming monsters. Ulquiorra is drawn in the manga with distinctly black finger and toe nails—which when I first saw it I thought was common to all Espada, but when I looked more carefully, it was only him. In this story, it is a mark of the torture his living self endured (splintering fingernails causes the blood to pool beneath them, turning them black) and that caused his spirit self to unhinge.

**Burning the open flesh with their salt: **And that is the story of how one arrancar got his tear marks when he never shows any emotion whatsoever.

**What was left of his heart out with it: **Just in case this wasn't clear, he has been dead quite a while by the time the two men walk back into the house and does not know it. When he finally manages to pull the rod out of his body, he is pulling his Chain of Fate and heart out with it, converting himself into a hollow. No, Orihime (through his eyes) does not see a chain, but I think at that point it is all just spiritual symbolism anyway.

**The true emptiness of the universe: **In one of the manga chapters, Ulquiorra is listed as the hollow associated with 'Nihilism'—the philosophy that life and its trappings are without objective meaning or value, or that some human concepts that are generally accepted as "universal" (such as love, morality, etc.) do not actually exist. You can see Ulquiorra's bent towards Nihilism in the manga in how he goes on an on about how humans talk about "hearts" in the emotional sense, but that his eyes cannot see them, ergo, they do not exist. I was trying here to set up a scenario in which a man might come to disavow forever the existence of "hope," as Ulquiorra seems _obsessed_ with Kurosaki admitting defeat and giving up hope during their final battle in the manga. (I was like, sheesh, dude, why is it sooooo important to you that Ichigo admit hope is pointless?)

**These hands will never be too weak again: **Another carry over. In the manga, Ulquiorra frequently stops attacks with just one hand (or _two_ hands if you push him). It takes Ichigo a while to even get him to draw his blade. In this story, this is supposed to contrast with how he struggled futilely to remove the bar from his chest, but just couldn't do it and had to stay impaled there, suffering. As newly risen hollow, he decided he would never allow his own hands to be so useless again.

**Next door to one another:** The proximity of their houses is actually cannon. If you look at the map of Karakura that was published in the manga, the Ichigo and Tatsuki's homes are, at furthest, on the same block.

**All I ever had was him: **I think the thing that makes Tatsuki so rich for angst-writing is the fact that she, of all the kids from Karakura, is the most isolated by the events of the story. The "Nakama" have each other—even Chad the loner gets to be part of the group—and Keigo and Mizuiro form a duo. But Tatsuki loses both her childhood friend (Ichigo) and her best friend (Orihime), who even when they are present shut her out of most things after they form their click. Add to that the fact that there's no evidence she _ever_ had other close friends besides those two, and no siblings, and it always seemed to me like she, more than anyone, was losing an essential part of her social identity by their abandonment.


	16. Little Talks

_Disclaimer:_ I do not own any of the characters in the following work. All recognizable anime characters belong to Tite Kubo. All others characters are adapted from a diverse spread of cultural and mythological lore. I am making no profit from this story.

_Author's Note 1:_ I am not dead, just soul-crushingly busy. And I also spilled a glass of milk on my laptop. That was fun. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this offering.

**BREAK**

**Chapter 16: Little Talks**

_There's an old voice in my head that's holding me back  
(Well, tell her that I miss our little talks)  
_-Little Talks  
by Of Monsters and Men

* * *

_**Nights Since Orihime's Disappearance: 8 / ?**_

"You're my zanpakuto."

A long beat of silence passed between them, in which she knelt there awkwardly, not knowing what to say. _Is there some sort of formal protocol he's waiting for? Do I ask him questions now? What am I supposed to ask, 'How do I release you?' That sounds like the opening line of a bad porno movie! _

For all that people had stressed the importance of learning about her zanpakuto and how to use it, and especially about developing the ability to communicate with it, no one had actually told her what to do when she _did_ make contact. _And what's with this _contact_ business anyway? Isn't it—he—supposed to be a part of me? Isn't this all just an elaborate version of talking to myself? And if it's me then why is it a guy? _This bothered her in a way she couldn't articulate. Even with the soothing sensation that seemed to be passing through her mind, she felt herself becoming agitated by the strangeness of staring at this hulking man that was both herself and another entity altogether.

Though it seemed like they had an spent an eternity in silence, Tatsuki knew it could only have been a few seconds until his eyebrow lowered and the corner of his mouth twisted into a smirk. "It's about damn time, Sweetheart."

The sentence fell between them and stuck there, her brain refusing to associate the last word with its object properly.

Of all the possible combinations of words that she had expected to come out of his mouth, 'sweetheart' didn't exist in any of them. She realized her mouth was hanging open slightly. "I…what did you say to me?"

"I said, 'It took you long enough.'" Though he was kneeling like she was, his body language was much more relaxed. Not a muscle in his body was tensed. _He's not even on his guard._ "I said, 'I was getting tired of waiting.'"

She narrowed her eyes and ignored the veiled insults. "_Sweetheart?"_

He shrugged a shoulder and gave her another casual smirk that suggested her reaction was amusing him. "Nobody calls you that. Somebody should."

She scoffed and looked away from him, deciding the conversation was totally unreal. _Ma'at, a Elder goddess of the highest order, connects me with my zanpakuto and he makes fun of me. Go figure._ "No one in their right mind would call me that."

The smirk on his face turned into a full-fledged grin. "Sure they would. They're all just too piss-themselves scared that you'll break their skull if they say it out loud."

Almost out of reflex, she crossed her arms in front of her chest and dug her fingers into her biceps. "That's the way I _like_ it," she snarled.

He rolled his eyes as if this were a familiar argument they'd had many times. "_There's _a lie. You hate it. You tell yourself it's something to be proud of so that it doesn't hurt as badly that no one is brave enough to try."

She jerked as if he'd slapped her, and she leaned back, away from him, even though they were still separated by more than 15 feet. She took a slow breath in and realized that even as she was trying to pull away from this ridiculous conversation, physically and mentally, something was holding her here. _Ma'at,_ she thought, and knew she was right. She could distinctly feel the goddess's presence, pervasive but unobtrusive. It was kind of like the sun's presence on a cloudless afternoon—though the immense and powerful star would blanket absolutely everything in its light, one hardly felt like the sun was eavesdropping on your conversation on the park bench.

_I'm glad she's here_. The girl thought, to her own surprise. The conversation wasn't even remotely what she'd been expecting, and so far all it had done was unsettle her. But even though she'd only had one, frustrating meeting with Ma'at, she knew in her bones that the Elder goddess wouldn't let her come to harm.

"Don't like 'Sweetheart,' huh?" the man was saying. "How about 'Honey'? 'Pumpkin?' 'Cupcake?' Somehow I don't think you're a confection."

"Stop making fun of me!" she spat, and slammed her hand down on the floor between them. "Ma'at-sama said you wanted to talk to me. I'm sure she wouldn't have brought me here to talk about pet names!"

His face went very still and serious, and he leaned forward and put his hand on the ground too, mirroring her. She tried not to notice that his splayed hand was larger than a dinner plate.

"I am _not_ making fun of you," he said, perfectly calm. "The fact that you think I am is part of the problem we're here to discuss," he paused just a beat, and smirked again, "Sweetheart."

"What problem?" she asked, her eyebrows drawn together in wariness.

"Arisawa Tatsuki," he rumbled in a bass voice. The sound of her name in his voice thrummed through her, almost making her teeth rattle. "Why are you refusing to hear my name?"

"I…_what_?!"

"I've been trying to tell you my name ever since the power transfer. But _you_ are actively refusing to hear it." His voice was deep, but did not contain the rough gravel of the wizened old men or demon-ghosts you saw in the animes that came on TV late at night. By contrast, it was rich sound, vibrating with strength and assuredness of that strength. _Oh, and snark, _she thought bitterly._ My tall, dark, deep-voiced zanpakuto has enough sarcasm to make a normal person's head explode._ "And if you do not learn my name, you will not be able to move forward."

She was caught completely off guard. _He's got to be mistaken. Why would I be refusing to hear his name? Doesn't he know how hard I've worked, how many risks I've taken, to get this power? Why the hell would I refuse it _now? "I…I really don't know what you're talking about." She could feel her anger spike as he rolled his eyes again. "Hey! Don't make that face at me! Maybe _you've_ been too busy coming up with condescending nicknames to speak loudly enough for me to hear you!"

That got a laugh out of him. "Oh? Then let's try it now. My name is—"

Right at the moment his name would have been spoken, a booming noise, like the rumbling of extremely close, sustained thunder shook the dojo they were in. Falling backwards hard enough to bruise her tailbone, she covered her ears in an attempt to block it out.

When she looked back at him, he had slid from his knees to a cross-legged sitting position. One arm was propped on a knee and his chin rested on the back his hand. "So," he said, smiling at her in a way that very clearly said _'Told you so.'_ "Are you going to sit there with your hands over your ears, and tell me you aren't refusing to hear me? Or are you and I going to get to the bottom of why you're doing it?"

Abashed, she slowly removed her hands from her ears. They hadn't blocked any of the noise, anyway. It was like she was hearing his voice with her mind, not her ears.

She bit her tongue over at least ten angry retorts, and said the simple truth. "I don't know. I wasn't even aware I was doing it." She crossed her legs underneath herself, mimicking him as he'd mirrored her.

"Then let's start more simply. Why do I unnerve you so much?"

_Is he saying I'm scared of him? _Her cheeks colored and she scowled. "I'm not frightened of you." This wasn't going at all how she had envisioned it would.

He snorted. "Whatever, Sweetheart. I know your true feelings better than anyone living, and it's_ crystal_ clear that I upset you. If not for Ma'at-sama's intervention, you would be too pissed-off, embarrassed, and dejected to maintain this little meeting."

_My zanpakuto is scolding me! _she thought, and ground her teeth together."Fine, let's say I'm upset. If you're such an expert on my 'true feelings,' then _you_ should already know _why, _right?"

He smiled widely at that, revealing an oddly doubled set of canines that were both sharper than she'd seen in any human. _And this is a part of me?_ "In fact, I _do_ know. I wasn't asking for my own benefit. I'm just telling you the questions that you need to be asking yourself if you're going to get to where you want to go. Until you loosen up and accept me as your zanpakuto, you won't be able to hear my name. And until you hear my name, you won't be able to wield my power." He flipped the hand under his chin up in a questioning gesture. "I mean, you _do _want it, right? That _is_ why we're here, right?

The spike of indignant anger she felt at the situation was subdued by yet another spreading sense of calm. It was not unlike being sedated, and when her anger was dissolved, all she was left with as the familiar feeling of emotional exhaustion. _It feels like I've had to fight everything and everyone, for every single inch. And now I'm fighting myself._ She propped her forehead in her palm. _And myself is being an asshole about it. _

Tatsuki lifted her eyes, and looked across the distance at the creature that was both her and not her. _When you think about it, there really isn't anyone here to save face in front of, _she told herself. _At least, not anyone who wouldn't know the truth anyway._ She slowly exhaled, and as she did, she leaned forward, placing both hands on the floor and bowing her head in between them.

"Look," she began. All the anger she'd held up between them like a protective barrier bled out of her voice, and bone-deep exhaustion seeped into her words instead. "You should know better than anyone else how really, really tired I am of riddles. If you really are a part of me, and you know what's going on, what the problem is, please, just tell me how to fix it." She lifted her eyes from the floor to address him directly. "Just tell me what to do, in plain words, and I will."

He let out a long, exhaling sigh, stood up, and slowly began to close the 15-foot gap between them. As he came closer, she could see that his skin was not actually skin, but tiny, very fine scales of the palest gold that became larger and more textured at the base of his neck, where they widened and followed the path of his collarbones. _It's like a gleaming metal mosaic_, she thought, and suddenly she recognized the patterned metal from the hilt of her sword in his features.

When he reached her, he folded a knee back down to the ground, bringing his serpentine eyes the considerable distance down to her level. _They're beautiful_, she thought. Everything about him was, and she struggled with a sudden—and _absurd_—pang of jealousy.

"I _do_ know how tired you are," he said gently. "And that's why I'll tell you exactly what's holding you back—but _you_ have to listen." The last part did not hold a trace of sarcasm, and it struck Tatsuki squarely in the gut that as much as she was fed up with not being told anything, _he_ was just as tired of not being heard.

For the first time since she'd come to this place, she looked directly into his eyes. "I hear you."

His smile returned, and something about it seemed more genuine and less mocking than before, even though it looked exactly the same. He held a hand up between them that had three long fingers extended. "There are three lynchpins to the wall you've built between us," he said. "Once you confront them—_confront_ them, not simply acknowledge their existence—you and I can actually start working together, without the aid of the Egyptian babysitter-sama."

_Three? Figures, I should have known it wouldn't just be _a _problem, singular. This is me we're talking about. _"Alright. Tell me."

"One," he said, his ring finger folding down, "My sentience freaks you out. Ever since you've learned of my existence, your skin has crawled at the thought of me, as if I am some parasite living in your intestines, or some monster sleeping under your bed."

She opened her mouth to protest, but couldn't. Though it somehow seemed…_rude _now that she was talking to him, the idea that there was a part of her consciousness that she couldn't control, that had its own thoughts and opinions that she couldn't access…it was _creepy._ Especially when one considered that this entity had _power. _Hadn't there been plenty of horror movies predicated on less?†

She must have made a strange face, because he chuckled. "Don't worry about it, Sweetheart. I'm not offended, but you have to get over it. You won't be able to rely on me if the very thought of my existence makes you hesitate."

_Fair enough. _"Alright, I understand," she said. "What's the next one?"

"Two," he said, folding down the next finger. "You mentally associate me with the schism between you and your friends. Somewhere in all those jumbled up feelings of yours, you blame Soul Society for taking them away from you. And it's easier for you to think of me as part of Soul Society than a part of yourself."

_Pft. True, but I can hardly be blamed for that_, she thought. She'd never even _heard_ of zanpakuto before Soul Society dropped a bomb on the outskirts of her life. How could she not associate him with _them?_

"You better find a way," he said, as if she'd spoken her thoughts aloud.

"Yeah, yeah," she said, trying not to let her embarrassment at being caught in an uncharitable thought show. "What's the last one?"

"Aaaaand three." He smiled, reaching out the lone remaining finger to gently tap her on the forehead. "You're upset that I'm a guy."

She scowled, rubbing the spot between her eyes he'd poked and looking pointedly away.

"That's it," he finished, and leaned back to sit again, giving her some space. "Easy." He smiled in a way that conveyed he knew it was going to be anything but.

"Pft. If you've got all the answers, then how about telling me _how_ to resolve these issues?"

He tilted his head. "I recommend consulting with those who have the benefit of hindsight and experience."

"Excuse me?"

He snorted. "Part of your problem is that you're caught in this mindset that you're dealing with crap and facing feelings and that no one has ever experienced or dealt with before," he said. "In fact, you _always_ think so when you get to around this age, though I've never gotten to tell you so directly to knock it the fuck off—what with not usually being active and awake when you're alive."

"I'm hoping for a point in there somewhere," she said, deciding that the way to deal with her zanpakuto was clearly going to be trading snark for snark.

"Look, Sweetheart, maybe it's never happened exactly this way before. Maybe no one person has had the Tatsuki Arisawa experience in full other than you. But there are people out there who've dealt with what you're dealing with now. So find them. Let them be found for you. Talk to them. Let them talk to you." He glanced upward, as if he'd heard something she hadn't, and said, "Babysitter-sama will help, if you let her."

"…you want me to talk to people," she said slowly. "The spirit of my supernatural sword drug me into a subconscious meeting, with the help of an Egyptian goddess, to tell me that my emotional problems regarding my new found powers can be solved by…_talking_." She stared at him, letting the last word settle there in the silence between them.

He smiled with more teeth than a tiger. "Pft. You say that like anything less, coming from anyone else but what is essentially _you, _would have had a chance in any Hell of convincing you to just _do_ it, already."

She rolled her eyes, but couldn't deny that he had a point. _I wonder if this is the type of crap Ichigo goes through when he talks to his sword. _She ignored the sudden stab of tangled feelings thinking of the orange-haired boy brought about.

"Okay," she said, standing. "I'll…get myself sorted out. I'll play nice with others." She looked him in the eyes, which were level with hers as he sat there on the ground. "I hear you," she said firmly. "I'll hear your name, soon, too." She looked around the dojo. _If we're done here, shouldn't it be fading or something?_

She looked back at her smirking zanpakuto. "Is that all? Was there something else you have to say to me?"

"One last thing," he said, pushing himself to his feet as absurdly long, coal-black hair fell over one shoulder.

She craned her neck to look up at him. The expression on his face had changed into something that burned with intensity, and for the first time, she felt she had a true understanding of his immensity. Not just in size, but in power, in depth, in dimension. The playful sarcasm, the gleaming scales—these had been but ways for her brain to interpret this being in a way she could comprehend.

"_I _am your zanpakuto." His voice was a weighty thing when he said it, full of conviction and pride. She could feel the floor of the dojo vibrate beneath her feet. "And _I_ know_._ I _know_ how betrayed and unloved you feel. I know that no matter what Shinigami or Germanic warrior or Egyptian goddess shows up to throw you a bone, you think you are facing a terrible, horrifying battle that is beyond you, alone."

He spread out his arms, revealing an arm span of easily seven feet. "But you are _not _alone. _I_ am your zanpakuto. And I am the strongest and surest ally you will ever have. Only _I _can walk with you in the midst of your greatest joys and in your lowest, coldest, emptiest fears. Only I will be there with you every single time you come screeching into this world, until the very last shuddering breath you leave it with. And I _know_ that you have doubted us both."

He crouched again, until his serpent eyes practically filled her vision. "But doubt not. _I_ am your zanpakuto."

"How can you be so sure?" She said, in a voice barely above a whisper. "How do you know that I can do this?"

"Because I am you. And we are strong." He leaned back and smiled. "And throughout the countless years, among the many lifetimes, this is not the most difficult thing we have ever faced, you and I."

She let out a breath that she'd been barely aware she'd been holding. "And were you always such a pain in my ass?"

"You ask that every time."

"And?"

"And every time I tell you, 'Yes. Most definitely.' And you know what _really_ irritates you?"

"There's just _one_ thing?"

He smiled with teeth. "I always get the last word, Sweetheart."

"…Arisawa?" came Keigo's voice. She turned, and realized that she had been returned to her own body, and to the normal flow of time. The shift was so smooth, so instantaneous that she couldn't even pinpoint when it had happened.

"Arisawa? Are you alright?" said Mizuiro.

Tatsuki shook her head. Hard. "Yeah. I'm fine." Both boys were giving her worried looks. _But what am I supposed to tell them? I just got tag-teamed by Ma'at-sama and my sword?_ Although she didn't like the idea of hiding anything from them, here and now wasn't the right time to share.

"I was asking if you know her, but it was like you didn't hear me," asked Keigo. His eyes suddenly got huge and he let out a shrill noise. "What if it was my power?! What if I can't turn it off?!"

"Shut up," she said, maybe a little too harshly. Then, she remembered. She turned to gaze at Masaki, who had long since fixed the plant and was handing a young child a handful of posies. _How could I tell him? How could I _not_ tell him?_ "Just shut up, Asano," she said softly.

"_Do_ you know her?" asked Mizuiro. "It seems like she really bothers you."

She blinked her eyes away and completely turned her back on the woman, otherwise she wouldn't be able to help staring. "She just really looked like someone I used to know. It surprised me for a minute. That's all it is."

"But—"

"Hey! Morons!" interrupted Madarame at top volume, appearing out of thin air at the tree line. "Make with the training, or we're not feeding you anymore!"

* * *

_**Nights Since Orihime's Disappearance: 8 / Soul Society**_

If you had told Renji his evening would consist of meeting with two goddesses to discuss the training of his student, he would have thought that sounded reasonable. If you'd have told him that the meeting would take place over dinner because both ladies had been exerting power and were hungry, he would have thought that sounded pleasant. If you'd have told him that he would spent a good chunk of that dinner fearfully wondering if he should try and teach a violent woman how to use chopsticks instead of watching her angrily try to stab them through her sushi, he'd have confirmed _that's_ the one that sounds like _his_ life.

"Umm…may I?" he asked, making it clear through body language that he was only trying to be helpful.

Hraust blinked at him as if she'd forgotten she wasn't alone, then looked at the mess she was making of her food.

"Please."

Ridiculous as it was, he really couldn't blame her. If he'd been the one that had just come from a fight with Captain Zaraki, he'd probably have forgone the chopsticks altogether and just started shoveling food into his mouth with his hands. _Though come to think of it, for her, the chopsticks are probably almost as important as the food._ He'd noticed that beyond eating traditional Japanese food and drink while in Soul Society, she'd taken care to do it out of traditional vessels as well. He hadn't asked her, but he was guessing that it might contribute even more to acclimating her reiatsu to their realm.

As he rearranged her fingers around the utensils, Ma'at brought a piece of food to her own lips, her mastery of chopsticks even more elegant than his own. "How was your training session?"

"Good," Hraust said as she copied the movements he demonstrated with his own sticks, her eyes intensely focused on his fingers. "Much more exerting than fighting a child. I was able to summon my spear."

They hadn't told Tatsuki, but part of the deal they'd struck with Yachiru and Captain Zaraki for her power loan was that Hraust would put in some time sparring with the frightening man; he hadn't fought a member of the Norse pantheon in decades, and much like Captain Kuchiki had told him on the Bifrost Bridge, there was no way Zaraki would let an opportunity to do so pass. For her part, Hraust had hardly considered it a burdensome requirement. Part of her preparatory work before the Winter War was to continuously push the limits of her power while in Soul Society so that, as she replaced it by consuming their food and drink, she could regain access to some of the power that had become muted or suppressed when she transferred realms. Just training Tatsuki didn't even make her breathe hard. When they had all arrived at the meeting place, one look at Hraust's disheveled appearance and ravenous expression was all the other two needed to decide their discussion should happen over dinner.

"Now that dinner is properly underway," said Ma'at, smirking as the other woman finally mastered his instructions and started moving food into her mouth, "It is time to discuss the student in your care." Somehow, Ma'at was able to make the 'your' indicate both of them simultaneously.

"I was able to put Arisawa Tatsuki in contact with her zanpakuto today," said Ma'at casually, as if anyone could have done it. "As I predicted, the communication shed quite a bit of light on why she hasn't yet learned its name, and hasn't been able to communicate with it on her own."

"She told you?" asked Renji.

"I observed the meeting. I had to monitor and counteract her emotional responses so that she did not break contact. I wanted to review with both of you the nature of the impasse she is experiencing and form a plan for helping her overcome it."

Renji frowned and pushed food around on his plate. "Not to sound ungrateful for your help, but I'm not sure how comfortable I am discussing someone else's private conversation with their zanpakuto," he said. "I know you guys don't have them…but…it's kind of a personal thing." A brief history of all the embarrassing and hard truths he'd faced with his own zanpakuto ran through his mind. "I mean, I'm_ still_ working overtime to keep her from strangling people over the lake incident." He'd have given Hraust a pointed look, if he'd dared, but he didn't.

Ma'at gave him a gentle smile in return. "Your concern for her sake is admirable, Abarai Renji. But I witnessed the entire exchange, and, moreover, I know what is in her heart. Allow me to assure you that not only does she know that this discussion is necessary," her smile turned slightly amused, "but that she would much rather _not_ be present while we talk about her."

Renji thought it over, and concluded she had an unassailable point.

"Arisawa Tatsuki must come to terms with three separate aspects of the herself and her current situation. In a sense, all of them deal directly with her perception of her zanpakuto, which is why they are being expressed in her current difficulties. But at their core, they are also each representative of a deeper struggle within her heart. And it is there, at the root of such problems, that we must help her strike."

"Alright," said Renji, cautiously. No matter what Ma'at-sama said, the idea that she was about to share what could be some of Arisawa's deepest secrets made him squirm a bit uncomfortably in his seat. His chopsticks were gripped in his hands, but he could not seem to bring himself to pick up food from his plate. "What are they?"

"The first issue is a rather…human one. In the most basic of senses, she is frightened of the sentience of her zanpakuto."

"Frightened of its sentience?" asked Renji. "What do you mean?"

"You, Arabai Renji, are a being of Soul Society. The concept of a zanpakuto was never foreign to you," said Ma'at. "Even Kurosaki Ichigo was able to wield a zanpakuto for a time before coming to understand that they are entities unto themselves. Arisawa Tatsuki has been asked within the space of a few days to not only accept the existence of such an entity inside of herself, but to _embrace_ it without reservation."

Renji chewed thoughtfully. "Huh. I guess it kinda _is_ a lot to take in, when you put it that way."

Hraust snorted. "An understatement. Humans in this day and age are even less likely to consider a separate consciousness in their minds a sign of divinity than they were during the Dark Ages. Scores and scores of them spend their lives fearing the onset of crippling sicknesses that are heralded by the presence of voices like the one she is now straining to hear."

_Leave it to the ice lady to make the mood even more morose. _Although, he had to admit that she had a very good point.

_So…her zanpakuto makes her feel uncomfortable. …has that ever even happened before? _He wasn't always on good terms with Zambimaru, but he couldn't really say that his zanpakuto had ever truly scared him, either. _All of the rest of us Shinigami are 'beings of Soul Society,' as Ma'at said. So the rest of us shouldn't have had this prob—_

It came to him so suddenly, he actually snapped the fingers of the hand not holding the chopsticks in reflex. "Hey, maybe there _is_ someone in Soul Society that can relate to that!" Hraust looked at him curiously, but Ma'at's smile suggested she had already come to the same answer.

"Hisagi Shuhei," he said to Hraust. "Lieutenant Hisagi…has issues with his own zanpakuto," he finished, not wanting to go too into details about the other man's personal business. "Maybe…I dunno, she can talk with him about how he deals with it?"

"Hisagi Shuhei," repeated Hraust. Her eyes narrowed slightly. "Short dark hair. Facial tattoos including the numeral 69?" Renji nodded, and she tilted her head. "It will be amusing watching her reaction. She will remember him from the duel."

_I really hope not. _"There were like twenty guys on that rise. How do you know she'll remember him?" _If we can't get her to talk to Hisagi, then I'm out of ideas for this one._

Hraust paused before taking another bite of food to look at him flatly. "He had numerals. Tattooed. On his face."

"Then what—"

His exasperated rant was cut short. "No, it is meet. If he was present for our duel, he should compensate her for the performance. Let him pay it in service."

Renji struggled to not make any ridiculous expressions at her equally ridiculous statements. "Hey, stop saying such unnecessary things.† I was more concerned about _her_ reaction, and it's not going to be any prettier just because he 'owes' her."

Hraust shrugged. "I thought it was clear that I had no intention of arranging her training schedule according to what is comfortable for her."

"Do you really think constantly torturing her with embarrassment after embarrassment is going to help her?"

"Do not lecture me, child. _You_ do not even know why these things upset her."

Renji opened his mouth to reply, but decided arguing was pointless, and ended up just shaking his head. "Alright, so. I guess I'll arrange something with Lieutenant Hisagi to get her to work through her fears." He looked at Ma'at, who had been pleasantly smiling to herself for the entirety of their exchange. "What's next?"

"Secondly," Ma'at began, "she has redirected her anger at her friends as a resentment towards Soul Society."

_You can say that again_, Renji thought, remembering their first confrontation. It was easier to see her motivation now that he wasn't in blinding pain and still angry over being sent on a mission when he wanted to be somewhere else. "So…she's mad that her friends were jerks to her over Soul Society, and she blames us for that," he said. _Still, that's a little unfair. Ichigo doesn't need anybody's help being a jerk. But whatever._ "I don't really get what that has to do with her sword, though."

Hraust swallowed what she was chewing. "You do not? The epitome of Soul Society is the zanpakuto."

"Well, we've all got 'em, but her zanpakuto is all _her."_

Ma'at tilted her head. "You are thinking logically, and logic doesn't really have a place in this. Arisawa Tatsuki is a woman who builds of her anger a shield. She will place it between herself and what scares her."

"In plainer words," said Hraust, "her zanpakuto _is_ a zanpakuto. Zanpakutos are part of the spirit world. Period."

"So…" said Renji, "we convince her that her zanpakuto is on _her_ side, not ours?"

"Ah," said Ma'at, "but then it would just be two against the world instead of one."

"What?"

"Her anger is misdirected," said Hraust. "Allowing her to continue to deflect her feelings will not serve anyone in the long run."

It wasn't that Renji hadn't considered that, but if that was the case, the girl needed to confront their absent friends. And they were, by definition, absent. "Well I don't know what to tell you, because Ichigo, Inoue, and the rest aren't here to explain themselves." He shrugged a shoulder and looked down at his food. "And I can't apologize for them."

"Actually," said Ma'at, "I was thinking that speaking with someone who has also been left behind would be helpful."

For a minute, Renji thought the woman was talking about him after all. _But they didn't _mean_ to leave me behind. I was supposed to catch up with them._

He was about to open his mouth to say so when Ma'at continued. "Especially since the friend that left her is available to meet with your student as well."

It took a few minutes of racking his brain come up with whom she was referring to. When he did, he couldn't help sputtering. "S-Soifon?!" He couldn't imagine a person less likely to have a heart to heart about her feelings with a teenaged girl. _Come to think of it, though, they're pretty alike, aren't they?_

"Leave it to me," said Ma'at. And there was nothing Renji believed more in that moment than the fact that Ma'at would make such a meeting happen.

"Okay," he said, eager to move the conversation along. "What's the third thing she needs to get straightened out?"

Ma'at looked across the table at Hraust, who was still eating voraciously. Despite never looking up, the woman seemed to know she was being silently addressed. "Do not look at me with that expression," she said. "_I _predicted this would be a problem. You can't have possibly expected me to have broken its back in such a short time."

It was like she was talking nonsense. "What?" asked Renji. "What did I miss?"

Ma'at didn't answer for a few heartbeats, as if unsure whether or not to tell him. "Arisawa Tatsuki's zanpakuto manifests itself as a male," she said carefully.

"Oh," he said lamely, not really getting it. Sure, having a zanpakuto of the opposite gender wasn't that common, but it wasn't _unheard_ of either. In fact, he was pretty sure Urahara's zanpakuto, Benihime, manifested as a woman. _And _my_ zanpakuto isn't even remotely _human._ Why should something like that bother her?_

"So…" said Renji, trying to prompt more explanation. "That's a problem because…"

Hraust snorted and rolled her eyes. Ma'at said, gently, "Because she is a young woman that wants to be seen as one."

"As one what?"

"Young woman."

Suddenly, Renji realized he'd wandered into the strange and scary territory known as Girl Problems, where nothing even remotely made sense to him, but made perfect sense to the opposite gender.

Hraust must have seen the giant question marks above his head. She finished chewing a piece of tuna and pointed her chopsticks at him. "It is not complicated. In fact, it is rather obvious. Like other girls her age, Arisawa wants boys to court her and think she is attractive. She also wants to engage in hand-to-hand combat with opponents thrice her size. The one is not conducive to the other." She snorted again, "At least, not widely in the day, age, and culture she lives in. More's the pity."

"Not to repeat this too often, but, I still don't get what this has to do with her zanpakuto."

Hraust was chewing on another piece of sushi, and digging her chopsticks around in her bowl of rice for the last grains. "Ma'at-sama just told you. She wants to be seen as a girl. This is a challenge when her behavior and personality is traditionally seen as masculine."

"Yeah."

"So you Shinigami are always talking about how your sword is a part of your soul, and whatnot. It's a piece of _you."_

"Yeah."

"So a piece of her manifests as a boy."

"…okaaaaay…"

Hraust sighed, exasperated, and tried to spoon more food into her empty dishes. "So all attempts at self-assurance that she can reasonably expect to be appreciated as woman will be rather undercut at the realization that she has the soul of a man."

"But…" he said, confused, "that's not how it works. That's not what the manifestation of your zanpakuto means." Not unless he had the soul of a monkey-snake. A light bulb went off over his head. "Wait! Now, see, _that's_ why I couldn't follow you, because that logic doesn't make a sense!" Renji said triumphantly, relieved that it had not been because he was just an idiot. _I knew it. Girl Problem Zone exists in an alternate-logic universe. It's not me that's got the problem here._

"So, this should be a simple fix then," he continued. "We just explain to her that that's not—"

"Tch. You are still not understanding. Ma'at-sama said she must strike at the _root _of the struggle. The fact that her zanpakuto appears as male is just a trigger for an insecurity that is already present. Telling her that the manifestation of her sword is not related to her femininity will not change the fact that she is concerned about how others perceive her."†

Renji just stared at her for a long minute. "You're telling me that one of the major reasons she can't communicate with her zanpakuto is that she thinks it confirms that she's too much of a tomboy for guys to like her." His voice was incredulous.

Hraust just lifted a jug of sake and took a few long pulls, never answering.

"You're _kidding_, right? I mean, she's _met_ men before, right?"

Further silence. _I am definitely not the one with the problem here._

"Alright, the sheer ridiculousness of all that aside, what do we do to fix it?"

"We?" said Hraust, amused.

"What? I can help! Are you saying I can't do anything?!" he said, defensiveness plain in his voice. _If teaching Tatsuki is a requirement of getting a promotion, I should actually teach her something, right? _So far, all they'd done is decide to arrange for others to come in and do the heavy lifting.

Hraust threw back her head and laughed then—a real laugh, from deep in her chest. It was unlike anything Renji had ever heard. "There is _something_ you could do," she said, the laughter not quite gone from her voice. It was all the more strange because he didn't understand _why_ she was laughing.

"That isn't very funny, Hraust-san," said Ma'at, though her expression wasn't quite succeeding at being "scolding."

"Ah! It isn't _very_ funny. Such carefully chosen words, Ma'at-sama! That means you find it a _little_ funny, surely." Joke he did not understand aside, Renji decided the playful note in her voice creeped him out. _Is she drunk?_ The three empty jugs of sake would suggest she was at least buzzed.

It did not escape him that Ma'at, the unfaltering pillar of truth, did not deny her claim.

Hraust was making a sweeping gesture with her hand at him. "Do not trouble yourself. I will deal with it."

Renji gave her a look he hoped conveyed both skepticism and general disapproval. "Because you have such intimate knowledge of and sympathy for women insecure in their femininity?"

Just for an instant, something murderous passed across her eyes as she glanced in his direction. It was gone so quickly, he tried to tell himself he never saw it at all. In the next instant, her face just held her normal smile, full of teeth. "Of course. Just look at all the sympathy I've afforded _you._"

"Excuse me?"

"If we are all in agreement with this plan," Ma'at said sharply, overriding their verbal snarking with such dry authority that Renji briefly felt like a child again, "we should divide up and make the necessary arrangements. I will speak with Soifon and Yoruichi Shihoin myself." She laid her chopsticks down neatly across her perfectly clean dishes and rose gracefully from her seat. "Thank you both for your hard work."

Renji and Hraust rose as well, although _he_ wasn't in the middle of a draught of sake as he did so. _Maybe I should be. Think of the awkwardness that could have been avoided. _By the time he looked up, Ma'at had simply vanished. He looked at Hraust, expecting her to be surprised as well, but if she was, the woman gave no sign of it.

He rubbed the back of his head in the sudden awkwardness Ma'at's departure had left. "I'll try to arrange something with Lieutenant Hisagi for tomorrow," he said. "I'll let you know as soon as it's scheduled so that you can work around it."

She nodded, and just as he was turning around to leave, she spoke. "She is a woman filled with anger, this Arisawa Tatsuki."

Renji turned to look at her over his shoulder.

"She thinks, more often than not, that this is the only thing holding her heart together." If Renji didn't know any better, he'd have thought the other woman looked sort of…sad. He had the uncomfortable thought that maybe _this _was the part of Tatsuki's life in which Hraust had expertise.

"When you come down to the marrow of it, most of what we just discussed are expressions of this rage. She is angry and bitter over the denial of things she believes she deserves. It is as simple as that."

"What she deserves?"

"Knowledge. Friendship. Loyalty. Trust. Affection. Love." Hraust took another drink. "These are what she believes have been taken from her, or denied her, in one way or another."

"Why are you telling me this?" It was not that he didn't appreciate the information, but he had a distinct, almost crawling sensation that she was being this direct for a reason. And with Hraust, the best way to clarify the unclear was to be equally direct.

Hraust was turning now herself, setting her feet to leave. Over her own shoulder, she said, "Soul Society has taken from her. Maybe Soul Society should give some of it back."

Renji watched the woman's retreating form, one arm in the air tipping a sake jug to her mouth, and thought. Carefully.

* * *

_**Nights Since Orihime's Disappearance: 8 / Soul Society**_

She knew she should be sleeping, but she couldn't. Every time she tried to close her eyes, she was overwhelmed with thoughts of everything that had transpired that day—a day made unreasonably long by not one, but two beings essentially stopping time to pile onto her already weighty burdens.

So that left her here, not too far from the edge of the lake she'd fought in nearly naked, swinging her sword at the leaves falling from a tree and trying to improve the accuracy of her strokes. While it actually did seem to be working, she doubted it would wear her out to exhaustion as she'd originally hoped.

_Look on the bright side, Tatsuki. If it _had_ worked, you'd have passed out under this tree, and when you woke up, the perverts in the Eleventh would have stripped you naked and taken pictures._

She let that thought carry her through a half dozen increasingly violent swings.

She felt him approach. But when she thought about how Ma'at had probably wasted no time in informing him and Hraust about everything her zanpakuto had said, she decided it would be easier to pretend like she didn't.

"Murdering leaves, I see" came the redhead's voice.

She turned around to give him an annoyed look and found him less than ten feet behind her and to the left.

"Couldn't sleep, huh?"

She blinked at his astuteness. "Uh…"

"Cuz if you pass out here, the guys in the Eleventh are gonna strip you naked and take pictures. You know that, right?"

She ignored the blush she knew was probably spreading across her cheeks. "Did you want to talk to me about something?" she said, trying to sound harsh.

"Yeah, actually." Casually, and without waiting for her to follow suit, he walked to the base of the tree that had been donating its leaves to the cause and sat down, pressing his back into the bark. She had no choice but to walk closer, if she wanted to hear what he said next.

When she got there, he looked pointedly down at the ample sitting room on either side of the trunk.

"Pft," she snorted, but sat down anyway. She wasn't exactly sure why she felt she had to make it look like she did so under protest, but she did. _Because my brain is too stupid to sleep, and too sleepy to think._

"Urahara told me that he filled you guys in on Soul Society. That's right, right?" She nodded. "How much detail did he give you?"

"He gave us the broad-scale overview. What hollows are, what Shinigami are, the main characters in the current conflict and how it became a conflict, that kinda thing. And even that took forever." She started pulling up blades of grass and tearing them apart instead of looking at him.

"So you don't know the stories about what Ichigo and the rest of your friends have done here?"

She ripped up larger sections of grass. "He didn't really have time for stories." She left it up to him to decide who 'he' was.

"Would you like to hear them?"

When he said that, she realized just how much she'd been dreading the prospect of Renji pulling her aside to talk to her about her feelings. _He _must_ know what my zanpakuto said to me. Ma'at-sama must have told him by now. _Yet despite the fact that he was the member of Soul Society she had the most interaction with, and probably trusted the most, she could think of no one she less wanted to talk to about herself than this man. _This man, who's probably a better friend to all my friends than me._

"Don't look at me like that," he said, though she was actually making a face at the ground and not at him. "Some of it's going to be second hand, but I was there for a lot of it. And I know you want to know."

She stared at the hole she had ripped in the earth. "I wanted _them_ to tell me," she said, quietly.

He was silent for a moment, and then she could practically hear the shrug. "They're not here. And right now, they _can't_ be here. I'm what you've got."

She covered up a traitorous urge to cry by looking at him with the same face she made when Orihime had given her an extra helping of chocolate and raspberry spaghetti.

He smiled widely. "Too bad! Deal with it!"

She rolled her eyes and failed to stop the corners of her mouth from lifting.

He leaned back into the bark of the tree and looked up at the stars. She followed suit. "We'll start with how in the hell that idiot Ichigo became a Shinigami in the first place."

* * *

_Author's Note 2:_ And with this chapter, this story has become one of the very few Tatsuki stories that has broken 100,000 words. I am shocked my own self.

THANK YOU to Dreamweaver Mirar, InfiniteDragon, reality deviant, Shinkansen, Xoroth, lilyrosa143, 99 luffy, winter winds, BiblioMatsuri, dragonlayer, Lenbug, Memories-of-the-Shadows; you guys are teh awesome! Thanks as well go to everyone that has followed or favorite this story. As always, commentary is welcomed and appreciated!

Thoughts on this chapter: One of the reasons this chapter took so long was that I tried out a couple of different personalities for her zanpakuto, and the ones I had initially thought would work really well didn't fit, in the end. For example, I tried the cold, aloof sort of character, but it ended up being too much like a male version of Hraust, or even Byakuya, who yet has more of a role to play in the story. Gentle, graceful, and powerful is Ma'at. Loud and coarse is Ikkaku. So then I asked myself, "what type of personality doesn't already exist around Tatsuki in this story?" And the answer was, "someone that will irreverently call her pet names and laugh when she gets riled up over it." So, her sword ended up more of an emotionally balanced Grimmjow than a Byakuya. If you guys have thoughts, yay or nay, I'd love to hear them.

Thoughts on the next chapter: The next chapter _will_ focus on Ichigo and crew. I know I've said this before, but it _has_ to come next to get to a few parts I'm really excited about.

Again, thanks for reading!

* * *

_Story Notes:_

**Predicated on less: **Seriously, if someone told me I essentially had another entity that was conscious _inside_ me, it'd take me a hot minute to process that. It's almost Lovecraftian, in a way. I think the weirdness of this deserves a minor plot point. And Hisagi. Just sayin'.

**Unnecessary things: **I feel like every manga translation I have ever read included people admonishing others for saying "unnecessary things." I dunno why, but I felt compelled to include the phrase here. Sorry if it sounds weird to you.

**How other perceive her: **Considering how much of the Bleach fanbase has assumed that Tatsuki is obviously a lesbian just because she is athletic and has a hot female friend, I think this is a very realistic insecurity for Tatsuki to have in this story. Thus, I'd like to tackle it before putting romantic angles into the plot.


	17. That Which I Desire

_ Disclaimer:_ I do not own any of the characters in the following work. All recognizable anime characters belong to Tite Kubo. All others characters are adapted from a diverse spread of cultural and mythological lore. I am making no profit from this story.

_Author's Note 1:_ Finally, the long awaited Ichigo-focused chapter. What better way to celebrate St. Patrick's Day! (I'm drinking a Guinness as I post this).

A note to Greek Mythology Aficionados: As many of you have guessed, this chapter is going to pull in a lot of Greek mythology. Their mythos is popular enough that I'm sure many of you are much more knowledgeable about it than I am, but I promise you I'll do my best, for great justice. Given how the stories can vary, and sometimes different variants can straight contradict each other, not every detail I include might line up with what you're familiar with, and I do take a little bit of artistic license in some places. But if you think I've made a **major** error (i.e., saying Poseidon is the god of the sky), or am completely failing to do something justice, please do let me know. (The last thing I want to do is walk all over a myth that's close to your heart).

We're going a little bit back in time, relative to Tatsuki and Orihime, to rejoin Ichigo's crew. Let the section headers be your guide.

* * *

**Chapter 17: That Which I Desire**

_Give me fuel_

_Give me fire_

_Give me that which I desire_

-Fuel

by Metallica

* * *

_**Nights Since Orihime's Disappearance: 6 / ?**_

An inordinately large proportion of the important events in Ichigo's life happened in extremely close proximity to a river. Not just his mother's death, which stood out in his mind like a tangled knot in an old cassette tape, but a multitude of memories that were burned into his brain, big and small, happy and sad.

It was overlooking the river that ran through town that his mother had tried to explain to him that she was pregnant with his future sisters. Of course, his four-year-old self, wide-eyed and too confused to even keep the ice cream cone he was holding from dripping down his tiny arm, hadn't been able to get past the idea that there was a baby in her tummy if she hadn't eaten it in the first place.

The river was also where Tatsuki confronted him after she found out he'd quit the dojo the very same day he'd beaten her for the first and last time. He'd been too much of a coward to tell her himself (though he'd only come to admit that particular truth in time; in the moment, he'd convinced himself he didn't need to explain himself to anyone) and when she'd learned of it from their sensei, she'd stormed out still wearing her gi only to find him pitching stones into the river. And just as he'd been powerless to save his mom, and just as she'd been at a loss to explain conception to a four-year-old, Ichigo could not find it in himself to explain to Tatsuki in a way that made sense that the _point_ of taking karate had been to get good enough to protect people, and if he'd been able to beat_ her_, then he was as strong as he would ever need to be.†

But this. _This._ This brought a whole new level to the phenomena.

"So," he said to his three companions, who were as unable to take their eyes off the scene before them as he was, "I'm guessing this is the river Styx."

"The Acheron is more likely," said Ishida quietly. "Though I suppose Cocytus is also possible."

They were standing a few hundred yards off of the banks of a large, powerful river*, some distance back from a long wooden pier that extended into the surging water. On either side, _hundreds_ of people pushed at each other, trying to get closer to the dock without stepping foot in the water itself. While hands clutched at it, not a single person tried to walk onto the wooden planks, though as far as Ichigo could see, nothing was stopping them from doing so.

"Why the Acheron?" Chad was asking.

"It is usually described as the largest; some of the other rivers flow into it, supposedly. We can't really make out the opposite bank from here, meaning that this river must be quite large, even taking this thick mist into account. The Acheron seems like a safe assumption—though I admit I do not have a frame of reference for comparison." He pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. "The only thing I am truly certain of is that this is not the Phelgethon, as that would be on fire."

Ichigo couldn't help but roll his eyes. "Never would have pegged you as a fan of Greek mythology, Ishida."

"Hardly, Kurosaki. I simply read up on some of the more well-described Underworlds after Urahara told me what this little rescue attempt would entail." He sniffed. "Seemed like a _prudent_ thing to do."

Rukia was rolling her own eyes at the both of them. "If you little boys are quite finished, maybe we could speculate as to why those people are keeping clear of that pier, when they obviously want nothing more than to be on it."

Silence descended, broken only by the constant sighs and groans from the masses.

"So no guesses, then," she sighed.

Before she could say another word, a boat emerged from the mist. It was long, but not overly so, and the prow and the stern were bent upward in a sharp curve. It could probably hold about 10 people in addition to the man that was navigating it, a foreboding figure in a dark robe prodding the vessel forward with a long wooden pole.

As it pulled up to the dock, the ferryman did not throw lines to the pier, or in any other way secure the vessel to the moorings. Nor did any of the souls standing on the shore try to approach it. If anything, they took their hands _off _the pier.

A decrepit, skeletal hand reached up out of the ferryman's robe and pointed in their direction, silently. As one, the face of every soul crowding the banks of the river turned towards them, their struggles for the position closest to the pier forgotten.

Ichigo forcefully suppressed the recollections of every zombie movie he had ever seen, though he could not suppress the involuntary swallow. "Looks like our ride's here."

As they started down the dock, the faces followed them. Ichigo could not read their expressions, for the most part, though here and there he caught 'impatience,' and more than a few held naked fear.

Ichigo stopped before the boat, and the outstretched arm of the ferryman, whose hand had twisted from a claw-like point to an open palm.

_Right,_ thought Ichigo. _Pay the man._

He began to rifle through the provisions Urahara had handed him, his fingers finally grasping the cool metal of the worn gold coin Hat-N-Clogs has pitched at his face some nights ago. When he looked around, he saw that all the others had already done the same.

He held the coin up and looked at the ferryman, but could see nothing in the deep recesses of the hooded cowl the man wore. The hand did not move to take the coin from him.

_Hmm. Guess I gotta drop it in his hand. _He hadn't wanted to at first, as the boney, rotted-looking appendage seemed more likely to drop it in the water than anything else. But…

He held the coin above the desiccated hand, and let go.

_***Clink***_

The sound of the coin falling into the ferryman's grasp was the most tangible sound he had ever heard. It had…_weight. _It was the sound of the final nail being driven into a coffin lid. It was the sound of a final shovel of dirt falling onto a grave. And with the sound, something else had slid into his mind, as if the noise and the concept had been hopelessly tangled together.

_Charon.*_

_Yes_, Ichigo found himself thinking. _That's his name._

He hadn't remembered moving, but he was now standing in the narrow boat, and the last person of their group was boarding. He still had not shaken off the daze of his experience as the ferryman—Charon—poled the boat away from the dock and began across the river, the movement of the boat completely heedless of the direction of the flowing water.

* * *

He did not remember the trip. One moment, the boat was pushing off the dock, the next moment, they were drawing closer to the opposite river bank, a similar pier growing larger in his vision as it neared. In fact, the only real distinguishing features between the two sides of the river were the complete absence of other people, and the enormous dog standing on the land at the terminus of this pier, hulking and terrifying in a hind-brain sort of way. Its head was trained in the direction of the approaching boat, and its ears were pricked forward.

"It looks like they've sent an escort," said Ishida.

As they neared, it became apparent to Ichigo that the breed of the dog was hopelessly indeterminate. At once the creature seemed to have the features of a Rottweiler, a Doberman, a German Shepard, a Wolf Hound…there didn't seem to be a large, intimidating breed that it did _not_ resemble in some way, though surely none of the mortal canines had ever reached the size of a Clydesdale.*

As they neared the edge of the dock, the dog rolled forward a few steps. Without even thinking about it, his fingertips grazed the hilt of his sword. Beside him, Rukia had unconsciously done the same thing.

In that same instant, the dog bore a mouth full of pointed teeth and _rumbled. _He'd called it growling, except when a normal dog growled it did not cause the ground to tremor and the air to vibrate. Tiny stones danced on the ground as if the world were about to start shaking apart.

"Take your hands _off_ of your weapons," Ishida was saying in a quiet, almost angry voice. "_Now." _He held his own hands out in front of him in the universal signal of _'I'm no threat to you.'_

They did, and almost as quickly as he had made the decision to put his hand down, the rumbling stopped.

A dry, clacking noise wheezed behind them. It was only by the soft cadence of the noise that he knew it for what it was: the ruined throat of the ferryman, laughing at them.

"I suggest we all remember that we are guests here," said Ishida. _As if I need to be reminded,_ Ichigo thought, irritably.

"Alright," said Rukia, as they started began stepping out of the boat. "But I better not end up with this thing's nose in my lap."

_~Do not flatter yourself, womanling.~_

Any amusement they'd had at the joke she'd used to ease the tension evaporated instantly. Everyone stopped in their tracks.

The dog's mouth hadn't moved. Which didn't really matter anyway, since they had not heard its voice with their ears. Instead, it was like hearing its—_his—_voice in their head instead of their own.

"What are you?" said Ichigo, a knee-jerk question that he regretted the minute it was out of his mouth.

"It's obvious who he is, Kurosaki," Ishida said, and Ichigo could practically hear him rolling his eyes.

All the same, Ichigo considered the beast more carefully. "I thought you had three heads."

_~This form is for your sake of your pathetically fragile human mind, manling.~ _The dog made what could only be described as a snorting sound. ~_I was instructed to escort you to Hades' Court with your sanity, and your bodies, intact.~_

There was nothing to say to that, really. Ichigo turned to look back at the boat, but somewhere in the conversation, Charon and his ship had silently vanished.

"You are to be our guide, then," Rukia was saying.

He snorted again. ~_ I. Am. _Cerberus.* _I am no sheep dog. I am a guardian of this crossing. It is my responsibility to ensure that you transverse your way to the trivium* safely, and in turn do not meddle or tamper with our realm.~_

_Touchy about being a servant, got it, _thought Ichigo. It seemed rather obvious that this wasn't the type of responsibility he was used to. _Let's just hope he doesn't decide to fall back on more familiar roles._

"Well let's get started then."

There was a pause in which Ichigo sensed Cerberus had not liked the thinly veiled order. Then, ~_Step off the pier. One at a time.~_

Ichigo glanced back at the others, and moved forward, as did the hound. By the time his second foot fell to the dirt of the river bank, Cerberus was only about an arm's length away, and fixing him with a glare Ichigo thought only cranky teachers overzealous about monitoring student activity in the hall were capable of making.

Ichigo held his breath and the dog leaned down and in, deeply inhaling—_sniffing_ if truth be told, on either side of his neck. The breath that was exhaled in his face was rancid, literally, and Ichigo had to fight not to gag. However, while he was struggling not to choke, he did notice that the dog was wearing a simple, rough leather collar. The shape of a hound's head was burned, as if with a branding iron, into the hide on either side of his neck. _Three heads_, he smiled to himself. _I guess this is what you'd call the vanity of the gods. No matter what form they appear in, there are some things they just can't let go.*_

"What the hell was that?" he asked when Cerberus finally leaned back.

_~I had to verify your identity.~_

_Like anyone would want to pretend to be me, right now. _"And that's all it takes? A few quick sniffs?"

_~Human child,~ _he said, in the tone a person would say, 'idiot,' or 'moron,' ~_I know more of you from the smell of your blood, your sweat, your fear, then you do of yourself. I know more precisely than you the physical features your father's seed gave you, and the ones born of your mother's womb. I know the very patch of Earth your shod feet last tread before they entered the Underworlds. I know the foe that last cut your skin. I know the last woman you kissed.~ _There was a chuffing noise, and Ichigo realized it was canid laughter. ~_Or didn't.~_

Ichigo decided he wasn't even going to try to figure out what that last bit was in reference to.

_~Come,~ _he said when he finished 'verifying' Chad. ~_We have much land to cross, and we cannot keep the new souls waiting to be judged forever.~_

"What are you talking about?" asked Ichigo.

"Is that what all those people were crowded on the opposite side of the river?" asked Rukia. "Were they waiting for judgment?"

_~That is correct.~_

"Why aren't you letting them across?" she continued.

_~All judgment has been halted until you have been formally accepted into our realm.~_

"Why?" asked Chad.

_~Because the Master of this realm does not want any to witness _your_ judgment.~_

* * *

_**Nights Since Orihime's Disappearance: 8 / Hueco Mundo**_

Orihime woke up in her bed—_not _her _bed, just the bed they had given her_—but couldn't remember how she'd gotten there. Her dreams had been filled with terror and pain and fear, but not for one instant did she think what had happened the night before had only been a nightmare. There was no way to confuse it with something that had not been terrifyingly, obscenely _real._

Laying on her side, she shuddered at the thought of what had happened, and tried to calm herself by trying to remember how she'd gotten back onto the mattress. _Ulquiorra did not put me here, _she thought with certainty. In the instant he had left, she had been positive he would not be able to bear looking at her, let alone touching her.

It was then that she became aware that the warmth of enfolding her from behind was not just the plush down blanket and pillows of the bed they'd assigned her, as a hand began to slide gently up her arm.

As if she'd been burned, she whipped her upper body around to see the orange hair of one Kurosaki Ichigo. Her heart stopped.

"Orihime," he said in a voice heavy from sleep. He reached a hand forward to stroke some hair way from her face, and she realized he was shirtless, the tan expanse of his chest disappearing into the blankets that covered them both. "Did you sleep okay?"

_This is not real,_ she told herself sternly, tears forming in her eyes. For one, achingly painful moment, she wanted nothing more than to place her cheek against his collar bone, pull the covers over both their heads, and pretend that it was.

_You're stronger than that, _said a voice inside her. She imagined it sounded like Tatsuki.

She knocked the reaching hand out of her hair. The hurt look on the borrowed face looks so genuine, so _Ichigo, _that it almost made her stop and apologize. But when the moment passed, it redoubled her outrage. "How dare you," she said, as coldly as she could.

"Ha ha ha, I love it when the pretty ones are smart too," Ichigo's face said in Coyote's voice.

"What are you doing?!" she exclaimed. She had tried for anger, but in the end, she was pretty sure she only managed incredible hurt. She struggled with the blankets until she could escape the bed and the proximity of its other occupant.

"Do not be so agitated, Carrot-girl." The stretch of Coyote's smile on Ichigo's face was obscene. "When I came here not five minutes ago, you were fast asleep. So I took it upon myself to look into your dreams." He rose up to prop one elbow beneath him, and the thick blankets slid lower, settling at his bare hips. "If you'd had such a problem with it, you should have said something at the time! Ha!"

She pulled one of the thinner blankets off the bed and wrapped it around her shoulders, covering the thin night gown she wore.

"You're a liar," she said shrilly. "My dreams weren't—" she broke off, not wanting to talk about the awful nightmares, or the worse reality that had preceded them.

"Feh. Not all of them. But why would I choose one of _those_ misbegotten dreams to reenact? Is there no accounting for taste with you, my dear?"

She stared at him, really stared at him, the obscenely smiling god wearing the face of the man she loved, and she thought, _This is why he is _here,_ with the monsters_. _He has no conscience._

"You tricked me," she said in a shaky voice. "You sounded so smart, so wise, and no one else here would talk to me. And you _tricked_ me. I can't believe I let you convince me to…to…" she lost her capacity for words, and she simply thumped her hand against her heart. "Did you think that was going to be fun for me? For _him_? Did you think it was just some big joke?!"

"Ha! That's the second time in less than ten minutes you've scolded me for handing you what you desire!" He ran both his hands down his chest, and Orihime struggled not to blush. It only made him laugh harder. "What strange creatures humans are! So hypocritical! So full of contradiction!"

"What are you talking about?"

Ichigo's borrowed face lost his joviality, and it slid into the shape of a dark-furred canid. "Silly girl. You didn't _say _you wanted fun. You said you wanted to _understand._ Do not blame me for giving you what you asked for." His hind leg came up and started scratching at his ear.

She stared at him, an incredulous look on her face.

He lowered his leg and tilted his head at her continued silence, huffing. "Was I wrong?" he said, slightly challenging. "Do you not understand the creature _El Que Llora_ in a more complete sense than you understand your own friends? Your own kin? Do you not understand who he was, what he is, and what has wrought him in the image he now wears?!" His voice rose, almost in triumph.

Orihime was disgusted. "And I suppose you think it's fine that what I did made him relive all of that too?!" Her own voice was starting to carry the true weight of her anger. And fear. "I felt him, after it happened!" She didn't know why she was telling him this, but it felt right to throw it at him, like an accusation.

Coyote gave the impression that if he were still in human form, he'd be flipping his hair back, and laughing. "Ha ha ha, so troubled for his sake, Carrot-girl? Of course he is angry and scared! It is just and terrifying to be the one understood as to be the one that understands!" He laughed and laughed, and Orihime felt cold inside. She turned in her bare feet and blanket and faced the window instead of his heartless laughter.

"I was so stupid," she said to the wall.

"Oh, little precious," he cooed, the way one does to a child that will not stop crying. "Allow me to give you another bit of advice."

"I don't want it. Get out."

"Have it anyway, ha ha!" he coughed, giving the impression of trying for seriousness. "Don't count your chickens before they've hatched. But don't throw the eggs away until you know if they _will._"

"I told you to get o—" she whirled to command him more firmly, but instead of seeing Coyote, furred or otherwise, she saw Ulquiorra standing in the doorway with the food cart. She was so surprised, she dropped the blanket and it fell to her feet in an avalanche of crisp white.

She stood there in the thin nightgown, staring at him as he stared at her. At no other point in her life, even when she stood in the presence of Aizen, had she felt as vulnerable and exposed as in this instant. _Because I _deserve_ his hatred._ _I deserve his wrath._

The second passed, and he wheeled the food cart into the room as if she hadn't spoken. Unlike most other times, there was no attendant with him to lay out the meal, only him.

"Breakfast," he said in his normal, flat tone. He lifted the lid from the food.

Still she stood, unable to move, the chill of the stone tiles radiating up through her feet and making them numb. "I wasn't talking to you just then," she blurted out. "I'm sorry."

He did not acknowledge that she had spoken, and just continued to stare at her, waiting.

_Do not shake. You have seen him more vulnerable than you are now. _She blinked. That had definitely not been her thought. _But it's right.†_

One foot moved forward, and then another, stepping over the sheet on the floor, until finally she sat down in front of him, and picked up her fork.

Unlike the other times she had eaten, he remained standing close to her, just over her shoulder instead of near the door. She could feel his eyes intensely focused on her, and it unnerved her in a way she had not though possible. _What is he looking for? Does he think he could have prevented me from touching…from touching him if he'd been watching me more closely? _If that were true, she didn't see the point in staring at her now. He couldn't possibly think she would do something like that ever again.

As she slowly started passing food into her lips, it finally dawned on her that this was a bigger meal than the last few had been, and contained the sort of rich-in-protein foods she'd come to associate with blood extraction. She nearly dropped her fork with the surge of anxiety that followed, but managed to tighten her grip at the last second.

"Am…is it Aizen-sama's will that I prepare myself for the procedure?" she asked carefully.

There was a beat of silence that she couldn't interpret. And then he said, "No."

"But…the food."

"Now that Coyote, Izanami-no-Mikoto,* and The Morrigan* have passed through without incident, The Octava has declared his technique complete."

"Why haven't…" she stopped herself short, scolding her almost slip. She had been about to ask why she hadn't seen Izanami or the 'Morgan' god he mentioned, but that would have indicated to him quite clearly that she _had _seen Coyote.

_And why should I care if he gets in trouble? _a voice inside her asked. _Why should I care if he's punished?_

She stomped down that thought as quickly as she could. It wasn't a matter of whether or not he deserved her anger, she did not want to be the type of person that wished the horrors of a nightmare palace on _anyone. I will not let Hueco Mundo change me into that._

"I mean…what does that mean, the 'technique is complete?' Have all the gods that are expected arrived?"

Again, there was a pause she couldn't read into.

"A delegation of fallen angels arrived this morning. Their leader is one of the few allies that Aizen-sama is willing to grant a demonstration."

"A…demonstration?" In her trepidation, Orihime did not even properly register that Ulquiorra was being uncharacteristically…_talkative._

"Once you have eaten and dressed, I am to take you to the main audience chamber," he said, his voice carrying over her slightly hunched shoulders and falling in her ears like lead weights. "And there, before Aizen-sama and the allies we have assembled thus far, you will regenerate Sonneillon's wings.†"

* * *

_**Nights Since Orihime's Disappearance: 9 / Soul Society**_

She woke up in her cot in the small, private room that she had been assigned in the Eleventh's compound, and decided not to question how she'd gotten there_. The last thing I remember, Renji was describing how Ichigo had tossed Rukia down to him from the gallows._

Despite her initial standoffishness, she'd listened raptly as he talked for at least two hours. _Say what you will about this guy, he can tell a story. _Avid storytelling or no, the sleep that had pointedly evaded her had crept back over her slowly. Having slid down the tree into a practically supine position, she had drifted off to sleep, her eyes filled with stars, and her thoughts filled with imagined images of what Ichigo's face must of looked like as he saved the day and the girl, beaming and proud.

In the moment, it had warmed her as she lost consciousness. The triumph of her friends, narrated richly by a person that himself was proud of its outcome, had felt inspiring. But as she came slowly to full awakedness, it began to turn melancholy in her thoughts. _I'm hearing these stories like some stranger, like some child decades from now will be told the tale of the Heroes of Soul Society. _As much as she appreciated knowing, she'd never felt further removed from her friends.

_Whatever. You've got your won problems. Like how you even got back here._

Since there was only really one way she could've gotten there, and since she could already tell she was wearing everything but her shoes under the blanket she was buried in, she decided it didn't bear much thinking about.

Begrudgingly, she rose into the cool, almost cold morning, slipping her feet into the sandals that had been placed neatly beside her bed. _Bathroom,_ she thought. She crossed to the door, opening it mid-yawn, and almost jumped out of her skin to find Renji on the other side, hand poised to knock, which would probably smack her in the forehead if he went through with it.

She hastily covered her open mouth with her hand. "What are you doing here?" she asked when she could.

"Thinking about whether I should use this opportunity to see if your head makes a wooden noise when I knock on it."

"Seems like a lame reason to throw your life away," she retorted, rubbing her eyes.

"I also came to drag you out of bed for breakfast. I arranged a meeting for you with another Shinigami officer this morning—it's sort of last minute, so I wanted to make sure you woke up in time to get ready."

_I guess he feels bad about keeping me out all night and then scheduling an early meeting. He shouldn't. _Despite all the yawning, she'd slept better last night than she had since…well, since before she even had an inkling of a clue that something was weird in her town.

"How nice. If Urahara were here he'd make fun of you for playing the gentleman."

He smirked. "If Urahara were here, he'd make fun of girls that fall asleep in fields and need gentlemen to carry them home."

She cleared her throat and looked past him, suddenly feeling awkward. _Serves me right for not just saying 'thank you' like a normal person. _"Anyway…"

As if he'd noticed her shift into awkwardness, he politely looked away from her and shrugged his shoulders. "Yeah, we shouldn't talk about him anymore. If we call his name too many times he might appear. You ready for some food?"

* * *

"So," Tatsuki said, "who am I meeting with?"

When they'd arrived at breakfast, Keigo, Mizuiro, and their instructors were already eating. They had somehow ended up hopelessly engrossed in a spectacle in which Mizuiro and Ayasegawa loudly speculated on the nature of the amorous intentions Keigo's sister had for Madarame. Madarame loudly declared and kept declaring that he had no idea what they were talking about, and Keigo tried to look as small as possible and avoid notice, a hopeless task as both parties kept slapping him on the back and demanding he chime in. Needless to say, the plans for that morning had not gotten discussed.

"His name is Hisagi Shuhei. He's the Lieutenant of Squad Nine, but he's been the acting Captain since the previous one defected with Aizen."

She nodded. "So, what is this, a sparring match? Does he have some sort of specialty that I need to get some experience in?"

Renji frowned and didn't answer right away. "Not exactly."

She wasn't sure what about his tone hit the wrong way, but suddenly she _knew _that something weird was going on. She stopped walking, forcing him to stop as well. "What is this?"

"What is what?" he said, still frowning.

"Why are you taking me to Lieutenant Hisagi? What's the real reason?"

"Why are _you_ acting like I'm going to lead you into a trap? You know better." He scowled. "Or you _should. _How about a little trust?"

She stared at him for a few seconds, then shook her head and looked away. "Yeah. Sorry. It's just that Hraust _loves_ setting me up, and I guess I'm still a little on edge after my talk with…" she trailed off. "Anyway, sorry." _What am I getting so worked up about? _she berated herself. Her zanpakuto had pretty much told her outright that she was going to _have_ to have a bunch of _talks,_ with people she didn't know, about her hang-ups. _What's the point in getting mad at him for helping me do what I promised I would?_

"It's not a big deal," he said as he resumed walking, and she followed suit. "Though I honestly don't know how you could confuse _me_ with _her._"

"It must be the rampant professionalism that you both display constantly."

"Ha, ha."

As they approached the meeting place, she could see a man standing with his back to them. His short black hair was even spikier than her own, and it gave him a vaguely punkish sort of look. He'd ripped the sleeves off his uniform, which only intensified the effect.

When they got closer, he turned, and the first thing that struck her was the facial tattoos. Her first, instantaneous thought was, _He's taking the Punk Rocker look a little far, _but it was immediately replaced by the realization that she had seen that ridiculous '69' tattoo before.

When they drew up within a few feet of the other man, Tatsuki was sure.

"Tatsuki, this is Lieutenant Hisagi. Hisagi, this is the Arisawa Tatsuki I told you about." Lieutenant Hisagi reached out a hand amiably, and Tatsuki let it hang there in the air between them. She let the silence stretch just long enough to make it obvious she was being rude on purpose.

"I remember you," she said flatly. "You were on the slope above the lake." She knew that Renji was right about needing to let the whole thing go. And she would, in the end, work with this man. But she sure as hell didn't see the need to be graceful about it.

"I was," he said, letting his arm fall casually back to his side. She stared at him, waiting for him to say something for himself, but he just stared silently and impassively back.

"Get a good show?" she held back the snarl for the most part, but it still dripped with sarcasm.

"I did." He continued to meet her eyes, and she was forced to look away first so he didn't see her blush. _God damn it, I need to work on my poker face. _This wasn't going how she'd expected it at _all._

"Well. I'm glad you enjoyed it," she huffed.

She wasn't looking at him, but she could hear him shrug. "You fought pretty well against an enemy of vastly superior strength and skill in a terrain that didn't favor you. So yeah, I enjoyed watching it."

"And the _nudity_ had nothing to do with it?"

"The nudity was just the icing on the cake."

She snorted, refusing to look at him, her arms crossed over her chest. He shrugged again, and in a completely flat, bored tone, said, "If it bothers you that much, I can take my kimono off while we talk. Even the score."

Tatsuki scowled and commanded the blood in her cheeks to _just go somewhere else, already!_ "I don't think that will be necessary."

"Oh good. Because I think I forgot to wear my fundoshi* today," he said, looking up and to the left and rubbing the back of his head as if he really couldn't remember. In the background, she could her Renji making a strangled noise as he fought to conceal whatever reaction he was having.

She snapped her eyes back to Hisagi and stared at him through narrowed eyes for what felt like an eternity. After a second, his eyes tracked back to hers. She let every hint of emotion fall out of her voice until it was just as blank as his. Until it was just as cold as Hraust's. "Are you laughing at me?" It was bad enough she felt constantly suspicious that people were pitying her. She wasn't about to let him make jokes at her expense, whether she started it or not.

"I wasn't," he said, meeting her stare. "_I_ wouldn't." She took in the tone of his voice, the set of his face, and even with all that had just transpired, she had no choice but to believe he was telling the truth. Abruptly, she faintly felt something uncoil in her chest. _My zanpakuto. _She knew it instinctively. She couldn't say how, but she got the gist of the message, too._ Stop. _Stop_ trying to cut off your nose to spite your face. _She struggled not to imagine the sentence ending in a smirk and a 'Sweetheart.'

"And from what I've seen of you so far, I really can't imagine a reason for anyone else to, either," he continued, a slight smile gracing his face.

She hadn't been expecting a compliment, and she turned her face away again to hide the blush that reasserted itself. Of course, _of course_, when she swept her face to the side she locked eyes with Renji, who was making an expression that was half, '_What_ is the matter with you?!' and half '_I'm _laughing at you, just so you know.' The tattooed eyebrows made the whole thing at least ten times more ridiculous than it would have been on anyone else.

"If you're done with being crazy for today, do you think you want to get started? Your afternoon is promised to Hraust, and I can't imagine you want her searching for you when you're late." She scowled. He smiled.

She turned back to Hisagi, and stuck her hand out stiffly. "Arisawa Tatsuki. Thank you for taking the time to help me." She was making eye contact with a distant tree somewhere above his left shoulder.

He shook her hand as if the whole conversation they'd just had hadn't happened. "I'm Hisagi. It's my pleasure."

"I've got a meeting with Ukitake," said Renji. He smirked at her. "Behave, Tatsuki. Remember what I said about the potato sack express.†" Before she could make a snarky retort, he was gone.

That left her alone with Hisagi. Who she'd tried to embarrass as revenge for seeing her mostly naked, but who'd managed to embarrass her instead. _There's a lesson for me in this somewhere. _She mentally sighed. _At least I know I can't be any more embarrassed than I am now._

"So," Hisagi said, turning in the direction opposite the one they'd come from, and starting a slow walk. She followed. "Renji tells me that you're a little bit afraid of your zanpakuto."

* * *

_**Nights Since Orihime's Disappearance: 6 / Hades: The Fields of Asphodel**_

Not that he would ever admit it, but Ichigo nearly had a heart attack the first time he heard Cerberus' true voice. They'd happened upon two men as they'd walked across the empty, grassy landscape—at least, Ichigo thought they were men, from that distance it was impossible to tell. The dog had begun furiously shouting in what Ichigo supposed was Greek, accented with canine vocal chords. It was _loud_, and deep, but what was really disturbing was the outright ferocity that was plainly apparent even when not a word of it was comprehensible. Ichigo didn't have to know what their escort had said, exactly. The message was clear: _You are not supposed to be here. If you come any closer I will take great pleasure in killing you._

They had not managed to get much more out of Cerberus, beyond the fact that Hades required them to pass some sort of judgment before agreeing to let them in his realm. Or, more precisely, to let them in with the intention of letting them _leave.* _When Ichigo had protested that arrangements had been made, as Urahara had ensured them they would be, Cerberus had merely laughed and said, ~_Mayhaps he has blind faith that you will pass the test. How utterly foolish.~ _Ichigo had decided he had not liked the mocking note to his laughter.

"_It is hardly surprising," _Ishida had said. _"Greek mythology is riddled with heroes facing all sorts of trials."_

Ichigo rolled his eyes a second time at the memory. _I never said I was_ _surprised. Just irritated._ _Even isolated _parts _of Urahara's plans aren't simple._

So it was in the interest of judgment that they were following an enormous canine through a field of flowers. _"Asphodel,*"_ Ishida had said, without elaboration. Truth be told, the landscape didn't look terribly different from what you'd expect to see in the real world. Or Soul Society, for that matter. _Everything's just somehow a little bit more…grey._

Despite the fact that he didn't want to anger their guide, Ichigo couldn't hold back his curiosity any longer. "You can talk. Out loud."

_~And with a higher vocabulary than you, I am sure.~_

"Then what's the deal with the telepathy?"

There was a pause, and Ichigo was certain that the next words carried a distinct tone of irritation. ~_I cannot speak Japanese.~_

"What?! But then…how am I understanding what you're saying? How are _you_ understanding _me_?"

_~I would not credit you with understanding, manling._ _Suffice to say, I am placing _thoughts_ inside your head. Meanings. Your brain is clumsily interpreting them into words.~_

_Clumsy? _Ichigo thought. _Someone's got a superiority complex. _

_~Not at all. It is the simple truth. Your limited brain can no more grasp the full meaning of the ideas I have conveyed to you than your nose can sense the full range of scents in the air, or your eyes can see the full spectra of light. You are tiny creatures, in body and mind.~_

Any retort Ichigo might have had was superseded by a sudden realization. "You can read my thoughts?" He immediately tried very hard to suppress the multitude of embarrassing thoughts and memories he didn't want _anyone_ to know about _ever_.

The chuffing laughter returned. ~_Did you think I was reading your lips?~_

"I just…"

_~We have arrived.~_

They'd come upon a juncture of three dirt roads, though they hadn't really been traveling along a road themselves. At the center of the crossroads was a woman, her body draped in a loose-fitting robe almost impossibly white. _And sheer, _Ichigo saw as they drew closer, and he immediately snapped his eyes up to her face. Her skin was porcelain pale, but it looked almost tanned next to her shining silver hair, which tumbled over her shoulders in thick, curling waves. She was smiling beatifically.

"Hello, children," she said in Japanese. She and Cerberus carried a very brief conversation in what had to be Greek, and the enormous animal-shaped god sat down on his haunches.

"I see you have met Cerberus."

"He's a ball of laughs," said Ichigo.

"We were honored by his kind hospitality," said Rukia, glaring at him. Ichigo recognized the look she got in her eyes right before she smacked him upside the head. _Probably only holding back because we don't know who the new goddess is yet._

The woman's laugh was like the ringing of a bell, clarion and clear. "Yes, he takes his job very seriously. As do I." Somehow, the last bit sounded…darker than you'd expect of words said through laughter.

"Are you to be our judge?" asked Ishida.

"Ah, so he's told you. Yes. The deal your Urahara made with Lord Hades, by way of Osiris, stipulated that you may enter _and_ leave our realm only if one of you can prove yourself to be a hero. As you may or may not know, only heroes have ever left Hades once they've entered it." She laughed again. "It does vex the Master of this realm so, every time one of them manages to fight their way free!" She said it like someone remembering a cute story about a pet.

"Why should it?" asked Chad. "Why does it bother him?"

"This is the land of the dead, child," she said kindly. "Death should have some finality to it. It is the finality of death that gives life meaning, no? What would happen if everyone got it into their heads that if they just tried hard enough, they could leave and go back to the land of the living?" She swept back her hair with a hand, and Ichigo tried not to notice how it moved the fabric of her nearly translucent robe. "Lord Hades is charged with maintaining this realm. Maintaining its _order._ Individuals that make poor examples for the rest are a threat to the balance of life and death."

Ichigo decided now was not the best time to point out that he'd been bouncing back and forth between the lands of the living and the lands of the dead for quite a while now, and the universe had yet to collapse in on itself.

"Is that why you've halted judgment until this matter is settled?" asked Rukia.

"Oh, that," she said, rolling her eyes. "Those three* are ever so dramatic. But yes, those whose job it is to judge souls decided it was in the best interest of maintaining that order that the masses not witness you all getting the opportunity to negotiate your release. I hardly thought it was necessary, given how you will either pass the test and prove there is a hero among you—an _exceptional_ individual that they cannot hope to emulate—or you will fail, and they will see the futility of attempting such a thing." She shrugged again, "Either way, audience or not, it makes no matter to you."

"Wait, you're not the one that usually passes judgment?" asked Rukia.

She smiled and shrugged. "My specialty is usually of more use _after_ a soul has been judged."

"So," said Ichigo into the heavy silence that followed, "what is this test?"

"One of you will face three of your greatest fears." The woman smiled, and there was something sharper in her eyes than there'd been a moment before. "One of you will admit your greatest weakness in your heart, and at my feet."

"Admitting your weakness proves you're a hero?" said Ichigo.

Her clarion laugh rang again, but this time there was something more sinister to it. "I cannot think of anything that requires more strength. Can you?" Ichigo stayed silent. _Doesn't seem like that hard of a test._

"Just one of us?" said Ishida.

"Just one."

"No," announced Chad firmly. "We're a team."

"I have no doubt," she said. "But there is only one of you I'm interested in placing before my judgment." Her eyes fell on Ichigo, and he _knew_ that this had been decided before he'd ever even entered this realm.

_Good._ He had intended to insist on it, anyway.

The chorus of protests from Rukia, Ishida, and Chad were silenced when Cerberus rose and shook the ground with his reverberating growl. He did not 'speak,' but the message was clear. _It's non-negotiable._

"It's alright, everyone," Ichigo said, staring at the woman. "This is my responsibility. I'll take care of it."

She smiled. "That's what the alleged hero _always_ says. You are nothing if not predictable, Kurosaki Ichigo."

She began to walk closer, slowly dropping the robe from her shoulders.

Ichigo did not have time to look anywhere else but behind her, as enormous wings began to spread out from her shoulders, covered in feathers so dark they seemed to capture all the light in the world. In that moment, as the wings spread wider and wider, swallowing him in their shadow, he could not say whether he was still in the field with the rest of his companions and a beast behind him, or if he was in another universe entirely.

"Know me," the creature said in a piercing, multi-tonal voice that made his knees want to buckle and kneel before her. Her silver hair was so bright he thought his eyes would start to bleed.

"I. Am. Nemesis.*"

* * *

_Author's Note 2:_ Will Tatsuki ever learn to stop finding emotional shelter in angry confrontation? Will the Nemesis make Ichigo walk into that cave from Star Wars: The Empire Strikes back without his lightsaber? Find out next time on Psychopomp. (FYI, the next chapter _will_ be Ichigo's 'judgment.' I've actually had this chapter outlined for quite a while. I've been incredibly cruel to Tatsuki in interest of her personal growth, and it's time to spread the love).

THANK YOU! To dragonlayer, Ero-kun, BiblioMatsuri, InfiniteDragon, Darchias, reality deviant, Dreamweaver Mirar, Sweet Anise, 99 luffy, and Memories-of-the-Shadows, as well as everyone who favorited and alerted this story. I really, truly appreciate your feedback. As always, please, please take the time to drop me a review and tell me what you think, or if you have questions/critiques.

EXTRA Thank you's to BiblioMatsuri and Jorlem, who alerted me to my rampant abuse of the correct spelling of "Acheron" and a sentence I left dangling. I please Guinness.

A couple of things:

1) Where is Hades himself? Don't worry. He'll be around. I know Hades is a particularly beloved mythological character (or at least more well known that some of the other's I've introduced) so if you have any particular hopes for him, let me know now.

2) The thought has struck me that I spend enough time writing/researching this story, time that I could/should spend on other things (don't worry, I'm too stubborn to ever stop), that I should probably make a little bit more of an attempt to promote it. I've been thinking about cross-posting this story to other sites, but I'm not sure if it's worth it. There aren't a ton of active Tatsuki-centric fan communities, and I'm not sure that the multi-pantheon aspect of the story is enough of a draw for readers who are indifferent to her, or who generally like to read stories that focus on the 'main' characters. Feedback/thoughts from anyone/everyone about how they came to be readers of this story (where you specifically looking for a story that featured her, or did you read the words 'pharoahs' and 'vikings' in the title and go, "Wut?") would be much appreciated, if you care to share. Or just thoughts on this whole idea in general.

* * *

_* Mythology Notes:_

**Rivers: **There are five rivers that flow in and around Hades: Acheron, the river of pain/sorrow (the largest), Cocytus, the river of lamenation, Phlegethon, the river of fire, Lethe, the river of forgetfulness, and Styx, the river of hate. Accounts of which are located where vary according to source.

**Charon: **As should be obvious from the story, Charon is the ferryman that transports the newly dead across the rivers that surround Hades—usually either Styx or Acheron. To ride in his boat, you need a coin to pay for passage, which was why many Greeks and Romans were laid out with coins on their eyes or in their mouths after they died. The mythos don't really describe him as decrepit, like I did, but I've always envisioned him that way, so I took some artistic license. My head cannon is that, as a demigod, he can look like whatever he wants, and the chance to freak out visitors to the realm is something that happens only once every few thousand years, if ever.

**Clydesdale: **Clydesdales are very large draft horses, standing around six feet high at the shoulder or more. If you've ever seen the Budweiser wagon on a Super Bowl commercial, you've seen a team of them pulling it.

**Cerberus: **The well-known three-headed dog that acts as Hades' loyal guard to the entrance of the Underworld. Hercules had to defeat him as his final and most difficult of his 12 labors. Many of the stories depict Cerberus as brute muscle, but I decided to interpret him as beastly, ferocious, _and_ intelligent. He's not going to pull off a Xanatos Gambit or anything, but when you get right down to it, I feel like a deity that's been around thousands of years isn't just going to bark and drool.

**Trivium: **an intersection of three roads. See "those three" below.

**Can't let go: **It stands to reason that the gods in this story can look like _whatever _they damn well please. But more often than not, they're going to incorporate in to their appearance aspects of symbolism that identify them—because they _want_ to be recognized. They want to be remembered. Even Cerberus is no exception.

**Fundoshi: **As far as I can tell, this is the traditional undergarment that's worn under a hakama. I spent an embarrassing amount of time trying to figure this out for accuracy's sake, and I'm still not 100% positive.

**Izanami-no-Mikoto: **Izanami is a Japanese goddess of creation and death, one of two divine beings charged with creating the first land, together with her husband, Izanagi-no-Mikoto. We'll learn more about her when she makes her entrance. Izanami was suggested (most excellently) for this story by Memories-of-Shadows. I look forward to bringing her into the mix.

**The Morrigan: **The Morrigan is the Celtic/Irish goddess of war, strife, and (possibly) sovereignty. Often appearing as a crow, she's also been described as taking the shape of an eel, a wolf, and a cow at different times. Her name translates to 'Phantom Queen' or 'Nightmare Queen.' She often compared to Norse Valkyries, but I, personally, think the differences greatly outweigh the similarities. There's a malevolent quality to her character that I'm interested in exploring in this story. We'll learn more about her when she makes her entrance.

**Letting them leave: **Hades is notorious for not wanting to let people leave his realm once they're in it. It's almost like an OCD with him. I tried to outline what I think is a reasonable explanation for this in the story, but it's pretty much my artistic license, once again at your service.

**Asphodel: **A type of flower that's characteristic to the Field of Asphodel/ Asphodel Meadows. It's described as being food for the Greek dead. The Fields of Asphodel is the place that the dead who weren't bad enough to be evil, but not virtuous enough to be good, spend eternity. It's often described as a slightly less perfect version of life on Earth. In many ways, the description reminds me an awful lot of the Rukongai.

**Those three: **in some versions of the mythos, there are three figures (Minos, Rhadamanthus, and Aeacus) who hold judgement in the forecourt of Hade's Palace, at the intersection of three roads. If you are judged to be 'evil,' you're sent by the road to Tartarus. If you're virtuous, you take the road to Elysium. If you're not really bad, but you haven't distinguished yourself either, you go back to the Fields of Asphodel.

**Nemesis: **Nemesis is the Greek goddess of retribution. Or, more precisely, of getting _exactly _what you deserve, good or bad. Although 'nemesis' has come to be synonymous with an arch enemy or powerful adversary, this misnomer stems from the fact that, when you get right down to it, most people find the concept of merciless justice, without the hope of forgiveness or atonement, _terrifying._ So much so, it's easy to think of it as 'evil' despite the fact that it is quintessentially neutral. Nemesis is my favorite deity of the Greek pantheon, but she's not as well known as most of the other gods, so I was eager to include her in here.

* * *

_† Story Notes:_

**As he would ever need to be: **So, here's a bit of my "What's the deal with Tatsuki, already?" manifesto that exists only in my brain. Why does Ichigo continue to go to the dojo only until he beats Tatsuki, _once_, and then that's it, he's done with karate forever? If you go back to chapter 19, you'll see that pretty much the _last_ conversation Ichigo has with his mom is (paraphrasing) 'I'm wearing a raincoat, so I'll walk on the street side to protect you from the splashing. I'll protect you from now on, mom!' 'Oh my, I can't leave the roadside to you when you haven't even won a single match against Tatsuki-chan!" And then she _dies. _Like, immediately. So Ichigo gets better at karate until he can beat Tatsuki _once. _I feel like this is really indicative of how Ichigo framed Tatsuki in his mind for a long time. I think his mom saying to him, "You aren't strong enough to protect me until you win a match against Tatsuki," _really _left an impression, and it essentially set Tatsuki up as the benchmark for "strong enough." This explains why he shouts "I can beat Tatsuki at karate!" at Ganju, who has _no idea_ who Tatsuki is and could probably care less. To Ichigo, it means a great deal. It's probably also why he didn't ever want to fight her again—because he might _lose_, revoking the title of "strong enough to protect his love ones." I'm curious to know if other people have thoughts about this.

**But it's right: **I'm sure this will getting frustrating by now, but don't worry. The minute Orihime gets the chance to sort out what the deal is with the voices in her head when she _isn't_ in some sort of immediate situation, she will.

**Soneillon's wings: **Chapter 1? Anyone, anyone?

**Potato Sack Express: **Recall that in chapter 14, Renji threatened to cart Tatsuki everywhere like a sack of potatoes if she refused to train with Keigo and Mizuiro. That threat is still in effect.


	18. Ways You Can Hurt a Man

_Disclaimer:_ I do not own any of the characters in the following work. All recognizable anime characters belong to Tite Kubo. All others characters are adapted from a diverse spread of cultural and mythological lore. I am making no profit from this story.

_Author's Note 1:_ 1) Why yes, I _am_ trying to break your heart. 2) I wonder how many of you thought the trials were going to be like _this._

On that note, it's time for some **warnings**: this chapter's got…oooo boy…let's see, lots of disturbing imagery, mentions of disturbing, profoundly messed-up shit, and Horrific Implications. I'm not bumping the rating, because nothing is graphic as much as it is…disturbing, on a psychological level. If you made it through Ulquiorra's backstory without reading through your fingers, you should be fine. I just don't want to alienate any readers that are easily squicked or have triggers.

* * *

**Chapter 18: Ways You Can Hurt a Man**

_There are plenty of ways you can hurt a man  
And bring him to the ground  
You can beat him, you can cheat him  
You can treat him bad  
And leave him while he's down  
_-Another One Bites the Dust  
by Queen

* * *

"**I. Am.** _**NEMESIS**_."

He was on his knees, propping himself up on his hands under the crushing weight of her name.

_Not just her name. _Her. _What she is. _He had never heard of Nemesis before that moment, and yet there was no question in his mind what she was. The understanding had come with her pronouncement. It had come with the slide of her enormous shadow across his vision.

"_Know me_," she had commanded. And he _did._

_She is Retribution. _It had been said before that an eye for an eye would make the world blind, but staring up at her, he knew that there was nothing this being could not see, and that she had taken plenty of eyes.

If there was a sky above him, he could not see it behind her spread wings. She took up his entire vision, and from this perspective, he felt what he was sure an ant must feel when staring up at the treads on the underside of an enormous boot.

"**Kurosaki Ichigo," **she said, and it felt like someone was holding a tuning fork against his very being. **"I have seen your life. I have seen your soul. And I have judged them to be wanting."**

As metaphysically crushing as the declaration was, it did not surprise him. On the instances he'd tried to take an honest measure of his life, he, too, had found himself wanting every time.†

"**Thrice you will face the consequences of your weaknesses. Thrice you will face retribution for your failings. Thrice you will reap what you have sown. And if by the third trial you have admitted your disgrace, I will grant you the chance to absolve your transgressions through the completion of the journey before you."**

_The journey before…A Hero's Journey_?* _Is that what this is? _He found it ironic in a way he couldn't articulate."And if I don't?"

"**Then I will choose a fitting end for you, for all eternity," **she said, sending a shiver down his spine.

She didn't say it out loud, but he could feel what she wanted from him. "I accept." He put the entire force of his will behind the words.

She spread her hands, and the world got impossibly brighter, even in shadow.

"**Then in accordance with the contract between Urahara Kisuke and Lord Hades, and in honor of the Oath between our realms, I, **_**Nemesis**_**, grant you this trial of your worth."**

_My worth, _he thought as he shielded his eyes from the light. _Who in the world ever _really_ knows their own worth? What does that even mean? _"My worth as what? As a hero? As a warrior?" he asked, touching his sword and finding comfort in its presence.

"As a man," she said softly, not in the multi-tonal voice of authority, but in the voice she'd first greeted them with.

And then the light consumed him.

* * *

The first thing he realized was that he was standing before a door. It was smooth and white, as if it were made of ceramic or porcelain. A bright silver knob was the only thing that marred its unblemished surface.

The second thing he realized was that his sword was not present, in any iteration of its different forms. It was a sensation more than just noticing it wasn't at his hip or across his back; the profound _weight_ of its presence in his mind was absent. And, if truth be told, feeling the shape of that absence now was giving him the clearest idea he'd ever had of how…_large_ a presence his zanpakuto was as part of his being.

He knew a split second of panic before the words of the Nemesis floated back to his mind, almost like an echo from some distant place. _"As a man." _He understood the implication. _She wants me to face these challenges unarmed. With only my hands. Only my mind, my heart. _He firmly told himself now wasn't the time to doubt any of those things.

The last realization that came to him was that the emptiness behind him and to either side stretched to infinity. While the door before him was set into a wall, it too stretched endlessly in either direction, and he knew instinctively that should he try to walk along it to find another passage, he would never find one.

_Only one way to go._ Somehow, he'd expected a gatekeeper, or a puzzle, or maybe even a gatekeeper _with_ a puzzle, but the knob turned easily, without any special effort. _Maybe Nemesis knows the riddle of the Sphinx* isn't a big secret, anymore._

He stepped forward.

* * *

**~1~ **

The door opened into a prison. At least, that's what it looked like to Ichigo. Stretched out before him was a long, narrow hallway. A solid, pale stone wall stretched to his right, a series of barred cells ran along his left. The entirety of the space was lit with only the bright moonlight that filtered in through the barred windows set in each cell, throwing stripped patterns of dark and light across the length of the hallway. All the cells he could see into appeared to be empty. A thin layer of sand dusted the floor here and there in places, as if swept in by the wind.

He stood silently for a minute, trying to get his bearings, when he heard the distinctive sound of a woman gently crying. _It sounds like the cell at the very end of the hall._

Even amidst sobs, the voice sounded familiar.

His footsteps echoed loudly on the stone floor as he raced down the corridor. For whatever reason, he could not achieve shunpo, and had to settle for the fastest speed his legs could generate on their own. The sound of the sobs was nearly intolerable as the hallway seemed to grow longer before him.

It seemed so long and endless, that he nearly slammed face-first into the stone back wall when he did suddenly reach the end. As he pushed back from the wall with his hands, a tremulous voice rose from his left. "K...Kurosaki-kun?"

He could not turn his body to look at her fast enough, but when he finally faced her, he wished with everything in his body he could unsee it.

Inoue Orhime was in the cell, looking as haggard and broken as he thought a person was capable of looking without being a corpse. Her skin was pale where he could see it between streaks of indeterminate filth, and what remained of her clothes were so ragged and torn that it barely covered her, let alone kept her warm from the chill night air. The bright hair she had been so proud of had been hacked away roughly, and her scalp was an alternating pattern of missed whisps of hair and crusted sores where they'd sheared too close. And no matter what part of her he looked at, she was covered in red, angry-looking cuts and bruises in various stages of color.

She was laying on her side along the back wall of the cell, but had propped herself up on an elbow when he'd crashed into the wall. When she shifted to bring her legs underneath her, he could see mottled flesh on the inside of her thighs that looked excruciating, but was distracted from thinking about it too in depth by the rattle of a chain.

A heavy manacle encircled her right ankle, attached to an equally heavy chain that ran towards the center of the room. It was only then that he noticed the drain that took up a rather large space in the center of the cell's floor. Not only did the markings on the floor display trails of various, indescribable fluids and sludges into the drain, but the chain itself ran down through a large slat in the grated steel covering. _Why would it do that? Why wouldn't they just chain her to the wall?_

She breathed shallowly through dry, cracked lips and said, "Kurosaki-kun. You came." There was no excitement or relief in her voice. She was only stating a fact.

His feet had been rooted to the floor as he gazed at her broken form, barely able to process what he was seeing. Hearing her voice snapped him out his paralysis, and he started tearing off his kimono in order to wrap her in it.

"Inoue, put this on! I'm going to get you out of here!" He was speaking so quickly, he was not sure if she understood. She looked blankly at the clothing he was straining his arm through the bar to offer her, and did not move.

His shoulder was practically screaming at the force with which he was shoving it against the iron bars, and it took him a second to realize that she had not moved from her place on the floor. He stilled in his futile struggling, but did not drop his arm. "Inoue…"

" If I put that on, they'll just rip it off," she said dully.

He stared at her, unable to process her response. "Inoue—"

"Or do something worse with it," she said. "It _is_ a Shinigami robe. They won't like it."

"I...I'm going to get you _out_ of here, who cares what they—"

He was abruptly cut off by the sound of her laughing, and there was something in the lilting noise that finally tipped him off to the situation. _She's not right. Something's not right in her head. _He should have expected it. Who _would_ be okay?

She was laughing so hard that tears were streaking down her filthy cheeks, and when she finally wiped them away with an equally filthy arm, it only smeared the mess of her face.

"Sorry," she said, breathless. "Sorry. It's just that…they tricked me so many times into believing you had come to rescue me. To whisk me away like the beautiful princess of some silly story, saved by a shining knight. And you know, I _knew_ it wasn't really you, it didn't smell like you,† and I knew better. But I _so_ wanted to believe that you'd come for me, that I guess I just couldn't help it." She was laughing again, in that strange, not-right way. "Their ruses got so elaborate, so detailed in their impersonation of you—of the you I wanted you to be—that I started to look forward to them, after a while. I think that's why they stopped. They knew I started to like the part where I got to pretend more than I hated the part where it ended and the not-so-nice things started."

His mouth hung open, the arm holding his kimono drooping as her words and their implications wormed their way around his mind.

"But…_I'm_ real. And I _will _save you. I swear to you, I'm the real—"

"You swear?" she laughed her horrid laugh again, a weird combination of the light-hearted giggle she used to have infused with something tilted askew. "That's all? The others were much more convincing, Kurosaki-kun."

He opened his mouth to speak, but she cut him off abruptly. "One of those Ichigos got me pregnant you know." Her face was almost wistful as she talked about it. "He was the best pretender of all of them. I think he was the only one that really fooled me. And it wasn't just that it was a long time to keep up a lie. It was the way he would talk to my tummy. The way he would…" she trailed off, looking at the ceiling. "But the Octava Espada just wanted a human-arrancar hybrid fetus to experiment on."

He stared at her. There was absolutely, positively, _nothing_ anyone could say to that. He didn't even notice that his arm had dropped and the kimono had fallen from his hand.

"Kurosaki-kun, your face!" she giggled. "I always liked your scowly face the best. Tatsuki-chan thought I was weird, but I think if I liked _that_ look I'd be even weirder!"

_Focus! _he screamed at himself. _You can sort out everything that's happened later. For now, just get her out of here!_

"I _am_ real," he said firmly.

"Oh, I know," she said lightly. "I can tell. I got really good at it."

"Then why aren't you trying to escape with me?!"

She gave him a crumbling smile.

"How?"

That one word fell flat on the floor between them, almost like a challenge.

_My sword_, he thought. _I can't believe that I didn't remember my sword is missing. _What was he going to do, chew the bars?

He looked at her, her strangely serene smile at sharp odds with the pitiful patches of hair on her head, and he suddenly had an idea.

"Inoue, your hairpins! Where did they—"

This was the hardest she'd laughed yet, and she spread her arms to motion at the floor all around her. It took him a second to realized that, mixed in with the dirt and filth, glimmering shards of metal and glass sprinkled the floor, winking in the moonlight.

"You know, that was actually the worst part. Realizing that I'd had the power to escape right here in my hands the whole time, but only realizing it after it was gone." She picked up a tiny glinting fragment, looking at it closely. "At least, I think I did. I'm not sure I was strong enough, even then, but I didn't even try. I was so scared that it wouldn't work, and then I'd just be in more trouble. I had so little confidence in myself." She shook her head sadly. "I convinced myself that it was safer to wait for you to come rescue me. Because of course you _would. _You went to rescue Rukia, right?"

She smiled the sort of way she used to back in the human world, when she was using it to try and cover up a different emotion. "Sometimes I thought I could hear your voice telling me to stay out of it and wait. Wait for you to get here. Like you did all those other times." She looked at the shard again. "By the time I realized you weren't coming…the _real_ you…it was already too late. Whatever power I'd had, had gotten even weaker, and the first time I tried to use them, they burst into pieces." She tossed it back on the floor. "That was when I was trying to keep them from cutting out the baby. But it didn't work. Listening to them laugh while pieces of Shun Shun Rikka fell down around me was the _worst_."

_This cannot be happening. _Her voice did not betray any genuine emotion, and it sounded as if she were simply reciting the events of a television program that she'd seen the night before. His legs, his arms, every part of him was shaking, but whether it was with rage, fear, or shame, he couldn't tell. _All three. _His mouth was watering in the way it did just before a person vomits, and he clenched his jaw tightly to keep it down. He realized his tight grip on the bars was the only thing keeping him standing.

_How? How could I let this happen?_

Before he could give any sort of response, the lid of the drain exploded outward, striking the far wall and falling to the ground with an ear splitting screech. When the noise continued, it was only then that he realized it had not been the drain cover making the sound, it had been something down in the drain that was rapidly coming closer.

For the first time, something like fear crossed Inoue's eyes. He thrust both hands out towards her, and she made her first move in his direction since he'd first happened upon her, grabbing his wrists even as he grabbed hers. The manacle around her foot kept her from getting any closer.

"Inoue, I—"

"Kurosaki-kun," she said. She was anxious, but it seemed to be more over getting out whatever she needed to say than the…_thing_ approaching. "It will be here soon, and it won't like you being here. If you have something to tell me, please, say it now."

"If we can just—"

A clawed, emaciated arm, ten feet long and strangely jointed, exploded out of drain and seized her by the upper thigh. It _hauled_, and it was everything Ichigo could do to keep his hold on her.

"Kurosaki-kun, please!" she yelled as a second arm writhed out of the drain to grab her other leg. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Ichigo realized they were both left arms. _There is more than one of them. _"Say it now!"

"I'm sorry!" he screamed, tears streaking down his face, blurring his vision. "I'm sorry I couldn't rescue you! I'm sorry I couldn't protect you!"

For a second, even in the chaos, he could see her face with crystal clarity. Profound disappointment was plain in her eyes, until they filled with a hollow sort of resignation.

"Oh, Kurosaki-kun," she said sadly, "monsters wearing your face were better at this than you."

Then she abruptly let go of his hands, and did not struggle as the nightmarish limbs dragged her down the drain.

* * *

His arms were still straining forwards when he realized that he was no longer in the prison hall, and that there were no bars blocking his path. Their sudden absence made him pitch forward, nearly falling on his face on the plain stone floor that was once again beneath his feet.

Shakily, he stood at tried to collect his thoughts. _That's right, I'm in the middle of a test. That wasn't really Inoue. I wasn't actually in Hueco Mundo just now. _

He hadn't been. Had he? _I wasn't. I wasn't. _If he acknowledged the possibility that it could have been real, he doubted he'd be able to move forward. _It wasn't real._

Regardless, he could sense what the Nemesis thought of his performance during the first of his three trials.

_Failure._

The idea permeated his thoughts as it if were a toxin he could breathe into himself.

_Failure._

He was dimly aware that he was wearing his kimono again, and he wiped his forehead with his sleeve as he tried to evaluate what he'd done wrong. _I couldn't save her. _But had that really been the point of the test? If it had been, why hadn't he had his sword?

He remembered all the things Inoue had said, and all the things that had happened to her. It was literally _unimaginable_, as he couldn't bear to imagine it—he had to stop when he felt vomit rising again in the back of his throat. _Is the Nemesis just trying to torture me as much as possible?_

_No, _he answered himself. Nemesis had said clearly that he was being tested, not just punished, and 'as a man,' besides. _Somehow I have failed as a man._

He remembered the disappointed look in Inoue's eyes. She had wanted something from him. _What have I ever had to give anyone, that didn't have to do with my fists or a sword? _He protected people. That's what he _did. _It's what his name meant.

He could still hear her words clearly. _"Say it now!" _She had wanted him to say something. _But what?_

It troubled him that he couldn't understand the nature of his failure, but a sense of urgency began pushing at his thoughts. _The Nemesis wants me to move on. _

The door before him was made from planks of wood and held together with strips of wrought iron, not unlike the type of door that would lead to a cellar. Vines and strings of plant life were growing between the cracks, giving it an earthy, out-door look. A wrought iron handle with a latch was attached to the right side, only inches from his hand.

_The door is different, _he thought. _Maybe the trial will be different too. _He hoped so. He desperately did not want to make the same mistake twice.

_At least I won't have to go back to that room, _he thought. He wasn't sure anything could be worse than what he'd just bore witness to. _Except experiencing it myself, _he thought, ashamed.

Resolutely wiping the residual horror from his trial with Inoue out of his mind, he gripped the latch and walked through the door.

* * *

**~2~**

A cold wind struck him in the face, bringing a wave of rain with it, drenching him down to the bone and plastering his hair to his forehead. With supreme effort, he shielded his eyes and walked forward through the doorway.

The door opened into a graveyard. He didn't need to look around to know which one it was—he could _feel _it. _My mother is buried here._

Before he had time to follow that line of thought any further, a voice behind him rang out with unmistakable anger. "_You!"_

He turned, his hand involuntarily going for the sword that wasn't there, and meeting the cloth of his soaking-wet kimono instead. _Damn_.

It took precisely one second for him to find the face of the speaker through the heavy downpour, and then all thoughts of his sword were swept out of his mind.

The woman standing before him—_what _year_ is this supposed to be?—_was decidedly different from the last time he'd seen her. She'd gotten taller, _older_, her face etched with the weight of more years than she could possibly have experienced. At least one well-defined scar that cut diagonally down her face, skipping over her right eye with what could only have been luck. _Lucky. _What a ridiculous thing to think about the girl—_woman_—before him.

Her dark hair was shorter than it'd ever been, no longer than an inch in all directions, save for a few slightly longer wisps of bangs in the front, the only concession the cut had to fashion. It gave her face a harshness that matched the glare in her eyes, the set of her mouth, and Ichigo didn't need to see the Shinigami robes hanging off her to know what this woman had become.

_A soldier_, said the haircut, too short to be grasped and pulled by an enemy's hands.

_A warrior, _said the gleaming sword she'd unsheathed.

_A killer, _said the steel in her eyes.

Still, he knew her. She could change anything about herself, and he would still know her, in this world or the next.

Because even though he'd only been four years old, he remembered her face when they'd placed her in his arms. He remembered the grasp of her tiny little fingers around his.

And more than anything, he remembered the airy lightness of the joy, the heavy weight of the responsibility he felt when his parents had told him he had two baby sisters.

"Karin," he croaked, a mangled sound from somewhere deep in his chest.

The hardness in her eyes did not abate. If anything, it got more fierce. More angry. The grip on her sword tightened until her knuckles turned white.

"_You._ Here! _After all this time!" _she spat.

"Karin…"

"_HOW COULD YOU NOT TELL ME WHAT WE ARE?!" _she screamed. Fifteen feet separated them, and she slashed her sword in the empty space between to emphasize her words. "_WHAT _I _AM?!"_

His mouth fell open. _We?_

"_We?"_ he managed to say out loud.

"Are you _blind_?! You knew I could see ghosts too, didn't you?!" she yelled. "You knew there was something messed up about me too, didn't you?! Messed up about our family?!" both arms were gesticulating now, violently punctuating her anger.

_Messed up about our _family_? You mean…_"Karin, I didn't know…I didn't think—"

"You didn't think?! You didn't _think?! _You didn't need to think! I _asked _you what was happening, and you _jumped out of a window _instead of answering me!"

He remembered. _I had no idea what to tell her, then. _It seemed so easy, at the time, to just assume he would have time to explain later. _I guess I never did. _He didn't know what to tell her now, either.

"Karin, I really wanted to tell you. You _and_ Yuzu. But—"

"Yuzu's dead," she said bluntly.

For a second, all he could do was stare. All of him felt cold. Empty. Blank. _Shock_, he thought, recognizing the symptoms. He struggled to focus on Karin's words, her voice, amidst the steadily spreading sense of cold…_wrongness_ coursing through his veins.

"They explained it all to us—to _me_," she corrected herself, swiping her sword angrily through the air again, and his heart clenched as he realized she still hadn't mastered using a singular pronoun, where she used to think of herself and her twin. _How long did it take me to use the past tense when talking about mom?_

"They explained it all after. These strangers in their black robes with their swords. They _explained_ that we—_I _had weird reiatsu, and that we were leaking it all over. They _explained_ that we shouldn't have been doing anything to attract the attention of hollows. But how were we supposed to know? We didn't even know what hollows _were!"_

Fierce, wounded eyes bore into his own. Her shoulders were shaking. "Do you have any idea what it's like to have some asshole stranger show up and basically tell you your ignorance was responsible for your sister's death?!"

He started to reach out a hand to her. He'd never wanted anything as much as he wanted to hug her to his chest and tell her that everything would be okay, because he was here now. "Karin, it wasn't your—"

"_You're not the one that sat there for hours holding her guts in_!" she cried, slashing again at the air between them. Any forward movement he'd been making halted in its tracks.

"I don't want to hear it," she said harshly. "Even after she was cold, I kept telling myself that if I just kept pressing down someone might be able to do something. But no one could do anything. And I didn't even know where to go or who to call for help. And that was _your _fault."

_Yes. It was. _The thought should have filled him with anger, or guilt, like things of this nature always did. Instead, it was only despair that seemed to ooze into his mind.

"They gave me an ultimatum," she continued. "Learn how to control my powers with them as a human and agree to a harsh set of conditions, or they'd kill me and let Captain Mayuri tinker with my soul until he figured out what made me special." She sneered. "Apparently, all your bullshit made them not want to extend much trust to humans anymore."

"Karin," he tried. _Where have I been all this time? _It was like he couldn't remember anything.† _How have I left my sisters—my sister—here for what looks like more than a decade? Where have I been? _"Karin, now that I'm here—"

"Shut up," she said harshly, and he couldn't help but comply. She let out one long, controlled breath. "I doesn't matter any more. I'll tell you what does matter, though. Even though you never said a damn thing, now, I _do_ know what you are."

He didn't follow. _She's a Shinigami herself, now. Of course she knows what I am. _He could do nothing but stare at her blankly.

It must have shown on his face. She gave a short, hollow sounding laugh. "No. That' s not what I meant. I mean I know _everything _about what you are." Her sword went from being held loosely in her grip to being held at the ready instantaneously. "I know what _else _is living inside you."

Before he could react, her fist was knotted up in the front of his kimono, and her sword was under his chin. It never entered his mind to even think about pulling his own sword, even if he'd had it.

"I made a vow over Yuzu's corpse. In the hours that my fingers were clenched inside her body, her entrails sliding around under the pressure from my fingers, I was staring at her, _imagining_ that I could still see her breathing, and I vowed to every celestial thing that never existed that I'd wipe every hollow I could find from the face of this world. Of _all _worlds."

With her this close, he could see that it hadn't just been the rain streaking water down her face. He wondered if she could distinguish the tear tracks on his own. "You know, when I found out about your _friend_, I tried for a long time to convince myself that _it _was the reason you abandoned us to deal with all this shit on our own, in the dark. I thought it would hurt less than just admitting you were a crappy big brother."

He might as well have a sword through his heart already. He was powerless to say or do _anything. I deserve this. _The world had never felt as crushingly, inescapably horrible as it did right now. If he could move, he would sink to his knees in utter defeat. _I _deserve_ to die. _The only thing that kept him from cowardly wishing for it in his despair was the fact that he didn't want her to have to live with being the one who killed him.

"Now, I'm just not sure. In either case, it doesn't matter. Hurts like a bitch either way, but there's no way in hell I'm breaking my promise." He noticed that even though her face and voice were resolute, the fist holding the sword was shaking. "No telling what the other you would do. I'm not going to risk it hurting anyone. Because that's all hollows _do._" She sounded like she was trying to convince herself.

_I will not fight this. _It felt suspiciously like giving up.

He placed one hand over her sword hand, and the other on the top of her head, just like he had when she was an infant. "_Be gentle, Ichigo_," his mother had said. Later, he learned she'd just been warning him because babies' skulls aren't fused when they're born. But he'd go the rest of his life with "_be gentle, Ichigo" _imprinted in his mind whenever he thought about his baby sisters.

Tears formed fresh in the corners of her eyes, but underneath his fingers, he could feel that her grip on her sword was steel. _This is going to happen. I can't stop her. _He didn't deserve to stop her.

He guessed now was his last chance to tell her.

"Karin," he said, looking directly into her eyes. "I know it's not enough, but I'm sorry. Ever since you were born, all I've ever wanted to do was protect you. That's the only reason I learned how to fight†…because I love you." He suddenly realized he'd never said those three words to anyone but his mom, ever. _I've never told either of them. I've considered them precious, but I never told them. And now this will be the last time. _"I'm sorry I wasn't there to save Yuzu. To save _you._ Please believe me when I say it's the only thing I've ever wanted in this world." He gently squeezed her hand.

There was a sudden shift in her eyes, as if he'd struck her, and if anything she became _more_ angry and determined than she'd been. It was so incongruous with the feelings he'd finally let himself vocalize, it actually startled him. "_That's_ what you're apologizing for?!"

He looked at her blankly, unable to sort out where his heartfelt words had gone wrong.

"Even now, at the end, _you just don't get it!"_ she snarled bitterly, and bore down on her sword.

* * *

He pressed a hand to his chest, willing his heartbeat to slow down and trying to focus on breathing. Every part of him was shaking, and he was pretty sure if he touched his face, his fingers would come away wet. _It wasn't real. It wasn't real, _he told himself again and again. No nightmare, no battle, had ever effected him as much as the experience that had just passed. Even the horror of the first trial had not made him feel quite like this.

When he had finally regained some control himself, he could feel the judgment of the Nemesis in the atmosphere around him.

_Failure. _The concept once again hung around his shoulders like a cloak. _Around my neck, like a noose._ Except this time, there was another one with it.

_Last chance._

Behind him and on either side of him was darkness—wide, empty, but somehow cloistering, as if it would suffocate him with its nearness.

_Last chance._ He understood. He couldn't give up again in the face of despair the way he just had. The last trial had been _devastating. _In the face of Karin's rage, her hurt, he'd shut down completely. _I practically _let_ her kill me, _he thought at himself, furious at the weak effort he'd put forth_. _At least with Inoue, he'd _tried. _He'd barely been able to say anything to Karin. And the words he _had _managed to say enraged her further. _They were from my heart. What was I _supposed_ to be apologizing for? _

It struck him again that both this time, and the last, on of his important people had been looking for him to say…_something._ And it both times he had failed.

The final door before him was made of smooth steel, polished almost bright enough to see his reflection in, like the blade of a well-kept sword.

He _could_ see his reflection in it, and he could barely recognize the haunted look in his own eyes. _I don't know if I can take another like the last two. _It didn't matter, though. Even if he _couldn't_ take it, he would put everything he had left into this final test. _There are others counting on me._

_Last chance_, he thought to himself as he reached out for the handle.

* * *

**~3~**

The door swung open to reveal a smallish, darkened room with smooth white walls. Moonlight streaming through a window high above was the only source of light, but it was bright enough to see by, bathing everything in an almost gentle glow.

A woman with choppy, dark hair that lengthened at the nape of her neck was standing with her back to him, gazing at the crescent moon through the bars of the window. A sword hung diagonally across her mostly bare shoulders, marking her as a swordswoman, but the real tell of what she was, was the white hakama of the arrancar uniform slung low over her hips.

_She doesn't look like any of the arrancar I've seen before. _He had not met that many females in their number. He could feel his heart sinking into his stomach as he stared at the moonlight bouncing off the pale gold hilt of her sword. _Why do I feel sick to my stomach?_

The woman turned her head to face him, and suddenly he knew why there was a knot in his guts. He almost choked on his surprised gasp. "T-Tatsuki?!"

"Hi there, Ichigo," she said, dark hair tumbling over a pale shoulder. The predatory smile on her lips was only partially recognizable.

"Long time, no see."

* * *

_Author's Note 2:_

So, I'm really, really sorry to end it there. The entirety of the Nemesis' test was supposed to be one chapter, but it got up to 12,000 words _before I was finished _(and we're talking without story/mythology notes), and I thought it would be way more prudent to split it off into two chapters, especially since the first half was completely finished, and I'm still tinkering with parts of the second half. I realize, of course, that this makes it a very grim chapter with no pick-me-up at the end, but hopefully you'll forgive me. (Please?) What if I promised you the next chapter, which is mostly written, will have adult-type situations instead of Horrific Implications?

Thank yous go out to lilyrosa143, BiblioMatsuri, reality deviant, Jorlem, Ero-kun, InfiniteDragon, SevereWrath, Xoroth, Queen of Narnia49, Dreamweaver Mirar, Shinkansen, Guest, dragonlayer, chespin, and Doudouille. Thank you all so much for your feedback on where I should try cross-posting, and also for your assurance that the mythology aspect of this story is interesting in its own right! Corrections and edits too! You guys are fantastic! (And yes, every bit of it was extremely helpful).

Quick question: I noticed that FF dot net lets you cross list up to 4 characters instead of 2. I was thinking of adding Renji and Orihime to the header, since they both have a lot of POVs in this story, and will continue to get more. Does that seem like I valid thing to do, or should I just leave it at Ichigo and Tatsuki? Or add different people?

* * *

_* Mythology Notes:_

**Hero's Journey: **This is one of the most fundamental archetypes for story telling there is. The most basic set up is, 1) A character leaves his familiar world through some call of action to embark on an adventure, 2) through the trials a tribulations of that adventure, the hero _learns_, becoming a hero in truth, and 3) at the completion of the 'journey,' the hero returns to their familiar world, wiser and ready to face any challenges that threaten his home. TV Tropes has a pretty good write up for this literary concept, but you can pretty much spot a variant of this pattern in almost _any _story. Shounen manga included.

**Riddle of the Sphinx: **A riddle asked by a Sphinx that lurked outside of Thebes, Greece, and demand travellers answer it or die: "Which creature walks on four legs in the morning, two legs in the afternoon, and three legs in the evening?" Oedipus solved the riddle (hint: it's a human), and even though it is portrayed in the stories as a super-difficult puzzle, many people now a days have already heard it.

* * *

† _Story Notes:_

**Found himself wanting every time: **I personally see Ichigo as a character that carries around a lot of guilt about stuff that isn't his fault. I think it'd be hardly surprising that he'd be down on himself, especially if someone like Nemesis is suggesting that something _is_ his fault.

**Smell like you: **In the chapter of the manga where Kon is introduced, Orihime knows Ichigo's body in about to jump through a second (third?) story window because she can _smell_ him. Even Tatsuki thinks it's weird. (What are you, a dog?)

**Couldn't remember anything: **In case it isn't clear by now, when he's in each of the trials, it's really difficult for him to remember that what he's experiencing isn't real, especially under emotional duress. During the trial with Karin, it gets bad enough that he can't remember what he was doing there in first place. Not that it really matters to him at that point.

**Only reason I learned how to fight: **In the chapter where Ichigo is remenicing about his mother's death, he says that he only stayed in karate for his sister's sake. I interpret that as learning to fight to protect his sisters.


End file.
